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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977431">stumbling over universes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/embersdevine/pseuds/embersdevine'>embersdevine</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Miscommunication, Requited Unrequited Love, Season/Series 12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:21:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>23,181</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24977431</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/embersdevine/pseuds/embersdevine</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean find themselves in another world.  Again.  But someone finds them and it sort of changes everything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stumbling over universes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the Wincest Reverse Bang.  Thank you to kuwlshadow for the amazing prompt and to the mod.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>
    
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, cases are pretty easy.  A few hiccups, Dean gets his gun knocked away, Sam gets punched in the jaw, a general tussle.  But usually, they come out of it okay.  Sam and Dean are experts in bad situations.  They found what they’re good at and built a whole lifestyle around it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But as they’re led into the woods, Sam’s not sure how they’re going to make it back to the bunker tomorrow to watch March Madness.  That’s more of Dean’s thing, though, Sam thinks.  They’ll watch sports together, drink a few beers but it’s only a matter of time before Sam crawls back to the library and to his notes.  He’ll check in to see how the game ends or Dean will let him know in passing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam frowns at himself.  Is he already dissociating from this situation?  Great.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the worst problem they’ve run into.  He and Dean have a high threshold for Shitty Things to Happen.  They’ve run into a couple apocalypses.  Sam pauses with that and has to count them because it’s not actually a </span>
  <em>
    <span>couple</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  There’s been at least three world-ending events averted.  And of course, there’s the top of the list when one of them bites the dust.  That’s happened at least…  Sam doesn’t want to count those, actually.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, Sam wonders to himself, not for the first time, if there’s a pair of siblings in the world that have similar problems.  Maybe have their own apocalypses they jumpstart and snuff out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s this town by the Great Lakes.  There’s probably not anymore than two hundred people.  The houses are pioneer styled and there’s a city hall that both Sam and Dean got the pleasure of visiting.  There’s not a church, no religious symbols of any kind to be seen, which had been Sam’s first clue.  There’s no pagen rituals, no Christian texts, nothing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They had been caught snooping around what the town would call a library.  And with a rather invasive look inside the trunk of their Impala (Dean had protested his rights), they were deemed hunters and to be sentenced.  The whole ‘trial’ had been weirdly clinical.  They didn’t have anyone defending them and when charged, both of them didn’t deny it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are to be sent through the Gate, where they will face her,” the mayor calmly stated and before he knew it, they both were being dragged to the woods.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>So.  It’s not the worst situation.  Actually, he thinks they’ve been in this scenario before but probably with more to go on.  The whole reason they even came to this town is because the last hunt mentioned the town of Hollowbrook.  Sam had wanted to check it out after they took care of the weird monster.  Dean called it Groot but Sam still isn’t sure what its name was supposed to be.  All they know is that there had been one and it died by fire.  A humanoid creature with no face, body woven with thin tree roots and elongated limbs.  It had stolen a couple kids, kept them in the woods.  Locals said the monster was from “that town”, which sparked their interest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s wondering if they should have left this one alone.  Or approached it differently.  They usually do the </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoot first, ask questions later</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing.  But he’d like to believe they have more sense than to get caught in a creepy town’s library, trying to search for ‘Groot’s family members’, as Dean likes to put it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam stares ahead, watching as a guy nudges Dean with the butt of a rifle to get him moving faster.  Dean throws a sneer over his shoulder but then his eyes snag on Sam and whatever insult he was going to say doesn’t come out.  Sam thinks maybe he looks more worried than he thought, if Dean is choosing to be quiet.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean continues, letting them be led deeper into the woods.  There’s the sound of moving water, a gentle noise that carries through the tall trees.  It’s dark, just a couple hours past sunset and it’s getting colder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam glances behind him.  Three men with firearms.  They look like soldiers, really.  As if they’re the town’s militia and maybe that’s the case.  Clean shaven and neat clothes, despite the lumberjack look.  One of them catch him staring and Sam raises an eyebrow.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, where exactly are we going?” he chances.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will face her,” the man answers curtly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who is she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find out,” says another one.  He’s got longer hair, tied in a ponytail and darker skin.  Native American heritage, Sam guesses.  “She’ll judge you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“For being hunters?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“For who you are,” he replies.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Vague answers to pretty direct questions is something Sam is used to.  But this feels like a death march.  It shouldn’t be familiar but it’s quite standard for the Winchester brothers.  Dean’s probably thought of several ways he’s going to take down these guys, with or without him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighs out, continues walking and stares at his big brother’s back.  The only weapon Sam has on him is the knife in his boot and he knows Dean somehow got away with the Knife of Kurds in his jacket pocket.  It doesn’t make him feel better when there’s guns on the opposing side but they’ve gotten away empty handed before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re led to a ravine, its steep sides revealing the creek that flows between.  A stone bridge rests heavily on both sides, chipped away with age and the elements.  The rock doesn’t look like anything nearby and he briefly wonders how long it has been here and who built it.  The ancestors of this town?  Travelers who had thought of settling centuries ago?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The man who had been charged with leading Dean takes him to the bridge and pulls out a blade.  Sam instantly explodes into action and jumps to stop whatever is about to happen but two pairs of hands take hold of him immediately.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But the man makes a grab for Dean’s wrist, slicing at his palm in one quick move.  Dean makes a gruff noise, sounding more annoyed than hurt.  Sam feels the beginnings of panic rise in his chest.  The man slams Dean’s open hand down on the edge of the bridge.  The wind picks up, as if beckoned by the action.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s pushed onto the bridge next and he wonders if they thought Sam would be the riskier one because two of them accompany him.  One man holds Sam’s arm and shoulder as the other mirrors what had been done to Dean moments ago.  Sam stares at his brother, wincing only slightly when his palm is cut open.  Dean’s looking straight back at him with matched worry.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s some sort of ritual but there’s not a word spoken.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>While it’s not unusual they find themselves in the middle of some sacrifice or ceremony, there’s at least an explanation of sorts.  There had been some sort of clue of what’s about to happen.  All they know is that they’re possibly facing a woman who will pass judgement.  Or, rather, that’s what Sam’s deducing so far.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gonna keep holding me or you wanna actually dance, man?”  Dean mutters, glaring at the male restraining him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>All three of their captures ignore him.  Instead, they watch the water below the bridge, silently.  It’s as if they’re...waiting.  Sam swallows and decides to take the chance.  Leaning over slowly, not to spark any alarm with the two gripping his arms, he peeks over the edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s dark and there’s only a half moon out.  But even with the limited light shining through the thick canopy of trees, he can see it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Droplets of water rise from the ravine, stalled in their flow to slowly turn skyward.  From right under the bridge, a wall of water cascades in reverse, glittering with the bit of light offered from the moon.  Some water droplets float as far as their eye level.  Sam has the urge to reach out and touch it but it gently falls back down, joining the rest of the water wall.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks back at Dean with some wonder.  Dean has both eyebrows raised, curiosity clear in his features.  This might be a weird situation but Sam will admit he’s completely okay with a reverse waterfall.  It’s kinda cool.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until they’re being pushed back off the bridge.  Dean makes the general protests (“Okay, get your hands the hell off me, that’s enough!”) and all Sam can do is grunt when one of the men elbow him to the edge of the ravine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a steep angle down to the water.  Rocks and tree roots protrude from the ground.  The man who had spoken to Sam earlier nudges him closer to the edge and Dean shouts a, “Hey!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down,” the man instructs, moving to push Sam again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean grips Sam’s jacket sleeve and tugs, glaring at the man.  It doesn’t make Sam move much but the message is clear.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hands off</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Sam chalks it up to another big brother moment, which is par for the course.  Sam decides now is not a good time to say anything about it, though.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes in a deep breath, preparing himself.  Before he can begin, Dean is already skidding down.  He follows after, trying his best not to trip and bash his head in.  He gets to the bottom and nearly falls into the water.  Dean has him by the shoulders to steady him before he does, hands gripping him probably too hard but it’s welcome.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The water is about a meter deep, which Sam does not appreciate at all, especially with how cold it is.  He turns his attention to the water wall, droplets flowing slowly upwards.  He’s reminded of glass chandeliers.  He’s sure he could appreciate its beauty in the daytime more and without the threat of whatever they’re here for.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assholes!”  Dean’s flipping them off with both fingers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam reaches out, slowly, and watches as some beads of water move around his fingers.  Some get caught and splash against his skin and he withdraws.  He frowns.  It’s like gravity is reversed just under the bridge.  Their blood did that?  Or is there something more to this bridge?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He truly wishes he could have researched this area more.  After the weird hunt from yesterday, they had been in a hurry to check this town out.  It’s never good when their cases are interrupted at the research phase.  It just...never goes well.  Sam snaps his gaze back up to the three men at the top of the gorge.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What now?” he yells out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Walk through the door,” one of them answers.  “If you return, we know you’re worthy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Worthy</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Sam hates that word.  Despite how it feels like a cliche in every hero’s journey or tall tale, it’s never applied to Sam the way he’d like.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>(He had been worthy, once upon a time.  Worthy for darkness, for a thorned crown and tainted blood.  Worthy for Lucifer.)</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean outright laughs and Sam wishes he hadn’t.  “What?  Are you serious?  Worthy for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s ignored.  Again.  “Go.  Follow the water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighs.  Escape doesn’t seem like the best of ideas.  They have the high ground and if they try to swim down the ravine, bullets can still get them.  This is a trial of sorts and they have to go through some mystical water door to start it.  Might as well check it out.  The Winchesters have done weirder, really.  Jumped alternate dimensions, time travelled and have been teleported across the world.  Besides, they said they could return.  Why not?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He begins towards the water wall.  A hand grips his shoulder and jerks him back.  Sam blinks with bewilderment at Dean.  “Dude---what’ve we got to lose?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going first,” Dean grumbles, not looking Sam in the eye and trudging through the water to the ‘door’.  Sam gapes at Dean’s back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seriously,” he says flatly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Seriously,” Dean answers and heads right through the thin veil of water.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have told Sam this was a case they could have left alone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>At the very least, they could have slept on it a bit before just rushing through town.  Sam had said something about looking it up but Dean was tired and wanted to get the stupid case over with.  And they’ve never had a bad hunt by the Great Lakes.  But there’s always a first for everything.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Like the fact that he’s stepped into a whole different universe.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.  That’s not quite a first.  Technically, they’ve been to different universes.  But this is different.  Like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>alien </span>
  </em>
  <span>world different.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s daytime on the other side, despite how it had been night from where he had just come.  And the water looks different.  It shimmers as it rushes past his knees, a shade of pink to it.  The ravine seems to taper off in the distance, a field with gold and red plantlife encasing the creek.  The trees on the edge near him are different colors too---taller and spread their branches with indigo leaves and white flowers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I’m in Oz,” Dean mutters, finally getting to the side of the creek and sits on a large boulder with bright green moss covering its surface.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits for his brother to pass through the gate.  Arms crossed over his chest, Dean observes his surroundings for a few more seconds.  He keeps an ear out for any sounds that might indicate creatures.  Because if there’s anything they’ve learned, weird world equals weirder creatures.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes another minute---what he assumes is a minute, as he notes his watch has stopped---before he charges back into the water and heads straight for the bridge again.  It looks different.  The stone seems more aged, vines creep over the surface and moss with some illuminant flowers grow on the underside.  He’s not entirely worrying over the contrast, though, as Sam hasn’t passed through the gate in some time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They could have gotten to Sam as soon as Dean walked through.  Deciding to let one brother brave this fucked up trial and keep one for collateral.  It would be smart if they wanted them to get something from this world but it doesn’t make sense to seperate them for just a test.  Or to simply dispose of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks through the water wall and ends up simply on the other side of it.  He’s still in the Oz-world.  What the fuck.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He tries again and gets the same result.  Panic surges through him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy!” he yells, hoping that maybe Sam stumbled out when he hadn’t been looking.  Maybe he came out on the other side.  But he gets no reply.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think, Dean.  How to get back.  Think.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Blood.  They used blood to open the gateway to this world.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes some struggling but he manages to climb up the edge and onto the bridge.  He pulls out the knife from his boot and takes a breath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A flash of light and some splashes make him pause.  He peers over the side of the bridge and spies the familiar form of his brother basically floundering against the current.  Dean releases the breath he’d been holding with a, “Sammy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Rushing back down (ungracefully), Dean wades through the water, putting the knife away, as Sam picks himself up again, something gripped tightly in his hand.  Sam, a grown ass man, still pulls off the confused puppy look and sometimes Dean wonders how that’s possible.  Sam’s staring at him, frowning, mouth slack and he thinks he could change that with a kiss with the relief he feels---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope.  (What the hell.)</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean clears his throat, tugging at his brother’s sleeve to get his attention.  “What the hell took you so long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks more confused.  Great.  “What do you mean?  I just walked through, not even a few seconds after you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The logical side of Dean’s brain is telling him Sam wouldn’t lie about something like this.  There’s no conceivable reason he would.  But Dean knows he’s not crazy.  “I’ve been waiting five minutes in this place.  Thought they stopped you from comin’ through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>An eyebrow arches as Sam takes a moment to look at their surroundings.  Yeah, he should let him do that but Dean’s heart is still pumping hard in his chest and he’s coming down from the anxiety from just seconds ago.  He has a problem but he’s long ago admitted to it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe…” Sam mutters, doing that thing when he thinks aloud, “...time works differently here.  It looks like another world? It could be stretching time for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll take it.  Honestly, Dean’s not ruling much out.  “Whatever.  Let’s just…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He has no plan.  Those assholes didn’t bother giving instructions beyond the indication they would meet some lady, which Dean’s not looking forward to.  They should start making stakes in case this is a pagen god or something.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Follow the water,” Sam murmurs, opening his hand and reveals a crystal of some sort.  He must have picked it up when he had fallen in the water.  It looks like a rose quartz but its angles and edges are different.  Softened, as if already polished.  Small specs of light shine within, as if little sparklers breathe to life and die inside.  “Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinks and looks ahead.  So they follow the creek upstream.  “Okay.  But if I get hungry, we kill whatever Wild Thing monster is out here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam throws him a look of horror.  Dean smirks.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Where the Wild Things Are</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been a favorite.  But he’s only half-joking.  If they come across some fucked up version of the teletubbies out here, he’s gonna consider dinner.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The field Dean had observed earlier seems more like a large clearing.  A small valley, really.  And he knows that only means the creek is going to lead them uphill.  The valley is filled with red, tall herbaceous plant life with yellow flowers that remind him more of the foxtails that grow in ditches of the midwest.  He had picked a couple off the stems, wrestiling them in Sam’s hair until his brother finally smacked him away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Sam, have some fun,” Dean says, feeling particularly jovial, as nothing seems to want to kill them at the moment.  “It’s just a few flowers.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t know if anything here can get us sick, Dean,” Sam reasons, turning his back and continuing to shuffle through the crimson grass.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s not convinced.  “They said we could come back.  Unless this is that poppy field.  Remember---when they got high in Oz.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t respond for a few long seconds and Dean has the urge to trip him just to get a reaction.  But then he hears a quiet, “I was thinking Wonderland.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinks, watches as his brother flashes a look over his shoulder and he catches the hardly suppressed smile.  “Hah!  They got high in that one too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s shaking his head, looking skywards and Dean can tell he’s probably rolling his eyes but it’s worth it.  He then begins listing off kid’s movies that subtly hint at drug use, having a hard time coming up with examples in the recent decade.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As he begins babbling about the lack of parental figures in Disney movies, Dean runs right into his sequoia of a brother.  He opens his mouth to demand why he had decided to stop but Sam has gone ridgid.  Dean follows his line of sight to somewhere in the distance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Flanking their right, there’s movement.  He holds his breath, eyeing the spot.  It’s slow, whatever it is.  The grass parts for it, gently moving aside as it nears them.  The movement stops.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They both glance at each other, quietly moving their knives out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Then it rushes them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam makes a noise and before Dean can think, he’s being pulled into the creek.  He doesn’t have time to complain as something emerges from the tall grass, resting at the edge of the water and leans forward.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s---well, he has no idea what the fuck it is.  It takes on a human form, though it’s shape is weaved together with the red grass and a shawl of the gold foxtails drape over its shoulders.  Its face is expressionless, simply a blankness of just the red stems.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It tilts its head, as if curious and Dean has the uncomfortable thought that maybe it truly is.  Its hands grip the land, edging closer but not touching the water.  It reaches out towards Sam with one hand, a strange mess of grass and dotted gold flowers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam lowers his knife and takes a step towards it.  Dean frantically snatches his brother’s wrist.  “What the hell?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just---let me see something,” Sam hisses.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lets go but doesn’t step away, crowding Sam as his brother mirrors the creature.  It stretches as far as it apparently can until Sam’s fingers briefly brush its own.  Quickly it withdraws, the woody stems that make up its hand begin to unravel slightly and it slides back on its haunches.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It looks like it’s still staring at Sam, jerking its head at angles, as if trying to get a good look at him.  It stands suddenly and Dean gauges it’s probably just as tall as he is, which doesn’t make him feel better at all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s rustling behind them.  Dean jerks around to see two more of the same plant-like creatures sift through the tall grass to peer at them, almost shyly.  A new type of wariness bubbles in Dean’s chest and he itches to pull Sam even closer to him out of instinct.  He squashes the impulse, keeping an eye on the two new things.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them seems to lift its chin at Sam’s new freaky friend.  A chittering noise emits from it, hollow and reminds him of the fast chirp of a cricket.  The lone creature stands and answers with its own chatter.  The entire exchange is disturbing enough.  They’re talking to each other.  If Dean had to guess, the one who has taken an interest in Sam is on an opposing side of an argument of sorts.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gives Sam an incredulous look as the chittering continues.  Sam looks caught between perturbed and fascinated, which doesn’t surprise Dean.  Sam has a natural tendency to analyze everything.  It helps in the field of research and solving cases but self-preservation suffers for it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the one in front of them stands, the grass that holds it together begins to shift slightly, as if accommodating for the movement.  The others do the same, however they don’t linger.  Dean watches as the other two take their leave, disappearing within the brush and thick grass.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck,” Dean mutters.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sam breaths out, eyes still on the plant creature.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes about half an hour  (he thinks), but they make it out of the creek.  His socks have been wet this entire time in this world and he makes sure Sam knows that as they near the other side of the valley to the edge of a thick treeline.  Sam doesn’t respond, which pisses him off even more.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature, on the other hand, seems rather receptive to anything they say or do.  Dean had made a comment about the weird color of the trees (purple leaves, white flowers, it’s definitely odd) and the weird humanoid plant-thing popped its head up out of the grass and cocked its head inquisitively at Dean.  He opted to ignore it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After feeling put off enough by Sam’s near silence, Dean begins focusing on the world around them.  They’re nearing the treeline.  There’s no more creatures in sight but even if there were, Dean’s not entirely sure they’d be a serious danger.  If anything, they’re curious.  So far, the one obsessed with Sam is the only thing in sight, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The air feels different around them.  Lighter.  Crisp.  There’s the general smell of wet soil, the plant life but there’s something extra that he can’t put his finger on.  It reminds him of wintertime but he can’t remember the occasion or place the scent.   </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sun hasn’t moved much,” Dean notes aloud, just to fill the air between them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam hums in agreement, casting a glance to a too-blue sky.  Dean thinks he would probably appreciate the strange beauty of the entire place if it had been different circumstances.  Or a creepy-ass plant pet following.  But that doesn’t stop him from making observations.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother doesn’t seem to care much for it either, though.  Dean might have been a bit slighted that Sam chose to take the lead but his feelings changed when he realized Sam had been flattening the grass for him by being first.  So, he’s not going to complain.  But when they get to the woods---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The days must be longer here,” Sam comments, halting Dean’s thoughts.  “Wherever this stream ends up leading us, we might wanna think about taking shelter away from it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah.  Easy targets are found by water in any situation.  “Think we’ll be here that long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Worst case scenario,” Sam says.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure.  Worst case scenario.  Winchesters specialize in it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When they reach the treeline, Dean keeps the creature in his peripheral.  He catches Sam pausing, brushing his fingers against the deep indigo bark of the trees.  His brother can’t help it, he thinks, always curious.  Never could shake that childhood wonder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s suddenly struck with nostalgia.  A fondness for a kid with wide eyes and full of inquiries Dean couldn’t answer.  He’s still like that but he just---he doesn’t ask Dean those questions anymore.  He figured out a long time ago Dean didn’t have them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam throws a questioning look over his shoulder, brows knitted together.  “What are you doing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Recently, things have been good.  There’s nothing truly world ending.  Mom’s back, even if she’s running with a bad group.  But it’s just---things are good.  Dean doesn’t have to silently freak out about Sam’s health or think about either one of them on borrowed time. It hasn’t been that way for some time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sam---well, he looks good too.  Healthier.  There’s the familiar hunch in his shoulders but it’s lighter than before.  Dean wonders if he looks different to Sam since the mark or, well, everything else they’ve been through.  Sam’s grown out his hair again, a little longer than last year.  It makes him want to sweep it out of his face, simply to feel it sift through his fingers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes him a few seconds, but he forces himself to stop staring, feeling caught.  He shrugs, moving past Sam and heading into the woods, ignoring the squelching in his boots.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” Sam mutters but he ignores it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature stalks Sam’s flank at a good distance.  Dean has half a mind to scare it off in some fashion.  What did their father say about bears?  Make noise?  Maybe that would work.  The freak of nature crouches as it moves, stopping to hide behind a tree and peek.  It’s like a child, thinking its out of sight.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam, I’ma kill that thing,” he warns.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let it be,” Sam defends it, predictably.  “It’s not hurting anyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yet,” he grumbles, stomping forward and nearly trips over a rock.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam chuckles but it's cut short at another sound that echoes quietly through the trees.  A tiny </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap</span>
  </em>
  <span> travels.  They both freeze.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s eyes flicker over the bright colored landscape, studying every bunch of trees for any sign of movement.  It could have been Sam’s creepy stalker but the noise had come from ahead of them.  At least, he thinks so.  The only other thing he can hear is the gentle rush of water they’ve been walking beside.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds his breath and waits.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Rustling.  He whips his attention to the left of them and takes out his knife, readying himself.  In the corner of his eye, he spies Sam do the same.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the small hill of tall trees, a figure appears.  And it’s coming straight at them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know,” he growls, watching the form run closer.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As they close in, Dean realizes it’s a woman.  Young woman.  Light brown hair, denim jacket and pants.  A brown satchel slung over her shoulders.  And she’s not exactly looking at them.  Instead, she’s throwing glances behind her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It occurs to Dean that she hasn’t even seen them.  She’s flying blind.  And obviously running </span>
  <em>
    <span>away </span>
  </em>
  <span>from something, which doesn’t bode well for them.  They’re hidden enough behind large trees.  Her gaze lands on the creek and her run slows to a long stride, out of breath and clearly winded.  She doesn’t even notice Sam and Dean are meters away.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can think, Dean rushes forward, rounding the tree he’s been using as cover and snatches at her arm.  “Hey---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl is quick.  Despite her small surprised yelp, she twists out of his grip and is pulling out a beretta on him.  Dean throws his arms out, still holding his knife.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean---!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s out of his own hiding spot and stepping forward and up to his side.  Part of him thinks it’s the stupid thing to do but, maybe, Dean feels a bit better Sam’s in a close distance.  He has his hands up too, must have put his knife away to appear less menacing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The young woman is gaping at them, clearly shocked to see two grown men here.  If she’d give him the chance, he wouldn’t mind sharing that in common with her aloud.  Her eyes dart between them, as if it’s inconceivable other humans could be here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Her gun lowers to her side, a loose grip in her right hand.  She sucks in a breath.  Her face crumples into something a lot like dismal disbelief.  Almost immediately, Dean wants to smooth out whatever she’s about to freak out about.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, it’s okay---look, me and my brother, we’re just tryna find a way out---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad?” her voice cracks, staring directly at Sam.  Dean’s voice gets caught in his throat.  Then she’s looking back at Dean.  “Pops?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dad?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s vaguely aware of his surroundings.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The strange rose quartz crystal in his jacket pocket is heavy, weighing his left side down.  It probably still has sparks dancing within, despite being tucked away.  Initially, he had believed it could have been part of the magic of this world but he’s still working on a theory for it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s also the plant monster that’s been following them at a safe distance.  He’s given it a name: Herb.  The childish part of him believes it’s an appropriate title for now.  Not that he’ll share that with Dean.  The last time Sam gave an animal a name, Dean had given him a lecture on not growing attached to things.  Sam’s guessing sentient plant creatures might be an exception, especially if Dean got to name the monster they took down Groot.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s saying something.  More like stuttering.  (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re---you’re confusing us with someone else, right, Sammy?  We’re not---how is that---?”)</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He’d recognize Dean fumbling over his words in his sleep, just like anything about Dean.  He can’t follow the conversation, though.  His hearing feels shot, like everything is under water and muffled.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You---you don’t know who I am?” the girl asks, her hand flying to her chest, fingers splayed out as she takes a step forward.  Sam’s eyes widen, feels like this should be a threat but his mind hasn’t caught onto the instinct yet.  “It’s me---Syd!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The words are still drowned out, hardly registering.  What he does notice are her features.  In the shade of the trees, he can’t make out the color of her eyes but they’re light.  Her facial structure reminds him of someone he’d rather not think about.  Her light brown hair is cut to an angled bob, some strands sticking to her forehead from her sprint from earlier.  She’s taller than most young women and he wonders---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---just wonders. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sam,” Dean hisses, and it’s the tight grip on his arm that has him snapping out of his daze.  He blinks owlishly at his brother.  Dean’s initial panicked anger dissolves to something like concern as his stare lingers on him.  “Sam, are you listenin’?  You good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>No.  No, he’s not.  He’s trying but he’s just---confused?  Dissociating?  Shit.  He doesn’t know.  He’s just out of it.  But he swallows the jumbled mess of words that might have been an answer to Dean and turns his attention on the girl in front of them, staring back with clear anxiety.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” he sucks in a breath, “Y---you said your name is Syd?”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s nodding, wide eyed and takes a step closer.  “You remember?  Please, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His own anxiety is being revved up to the red zone and Sam turns to face Dean on natural instinct, looking for a direction.  He realizes, belatedly, that is exactly what Dean had done just seconds ago.  Dean stares back at him, expectantly, and Sam knows that they’re in the same boat here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We, uh, I don’t have a daughter,” Sam informs her carefully, “I’m sorry.  We don’t know who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A frustrated cry erupts from the girl and both brothers tense.  She swipes a hand over her face, dirt smearing over her skin and she huffs.  “I knew it.  I knew if I came here…  He told me I wouldn’t find you.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  This is just some sick cycle.  I just wanna---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl---Syd---is nearing an obvious anxiety attack, her voice wavering towards a sob and her hands are shaking.  He recognizes it.  He’s been in that state more times than he’d like to admit.  Whatever this girl has gone through, any bit of hope has been snuffed out right in front of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s got a hold on her shoulders before he knows what he’s doing. “Hey,” he says gently, “Hey, we’ll figure this out, okay?  We just don’t know what’s goin’ on.  You just gotta give us more to go on here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean pipes up, suddenly right beside them.  “Like, maybe what were you runnin’ from.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gives him a side glance, despite secretly agreeing.  “Dean,” he says flatly and wishes he could say aloud: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not during a mental breakdown, please.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Tamed,” Syd murmurs, covering her face with her hands and Sam’s almost sure she’s palming the tears from her eyes.  (Something he used to do; frustrated and angrily pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes, willing the burn of tears away.)  “If you’re here too long, they follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Tamed?”  Dean prompts further.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The natives that live in the world,” her voice sounds thicker but almost automatic, as if she can’t help but answer Dean.  Sam gives one of her shoulders a squeeze and her head snaps up.  He’s suddenly caught by surprise at how tall this girl really is.  Probably a few inches shorter than Dean.  Red rimmed eyes stare up at him and he knows exactly their color now.  “They follow who they think belong here.”  Her face scrunches up again.  “You really don’t know me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam doesn’t know what to say to that.  Instead he sighs out, lets go of her and takes a step back.  With a shake of his head, he meets her gaze.  What else can he say?  This girl thinks she’s his daughter and maybe---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, we can talk as we move.  I don’t like staying in one place for too long out in the open,” Dean inserts and he silently thanks his brother for the intervention.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd---short for Sydney?---walks ahead of them as Sam keeps to Dean’s side, shoulder’s brushing often.  He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been glued to Dean’s side purposefully for so long but he finds comfort in it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s been unnaturally quiet.  Not even a joke.  Usually, Dean has </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fill the silence.  But there’s been nothing from his side and it’s unnerving Sam further.  His insides are coiled up and he doesn’t know how to soothe himself out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a deeper implication that Sam’s been willing to ignore but with Dean’s silence, he’s forced to think about it.  She looked at Dean too.  Said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pops</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  That’s a heavy implication.  Not Uncle.  Not Dean.  Pops.  And that’s a reason enough to have them all quiet.  It’s obviously been on Dean’s mind, if Sam knows his brother at all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>In all their crazy adventures, they’ve known there are different worlds.  Alternate timelines.  It’s the best theory he’s got.  This place seems to slow down time but maybe---it’s just outside of time.  And space.  It’s a little corner that doesn’t obey the rules.  Or maybe a crossroads of different timelines?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>God, this place is hurting his head.  He glances at Dean, catches his brother staring hard at the ground as they walk, as if the bright green grass and dead purple leaves offended him in some way.  He sighs out and stares ahead at the back of the young woman, who is clearly stomping her way through the forest.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” he says quietly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam gets a grunt in response.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, she looks like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jess</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That gets him a full reaction.  Dean halts and Sam does the same, bringing his gaze up to see his brother gaping at him with obvious concern etched in his features.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not sure why he had said it aloud.  He’d been thinking it, of course.  But to say it to Dean like that?  He’s been doing a lot of things without thinking here in this world.  Maybe---maybe he’s just tired and doesn’t have his head on straight.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sammy…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know but,” he sighs out, throwing a look to the girl before turning his full attention to Dean, “I don’t think she’s lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never said she was lying,” Dean counters gruffly and begins walking again.  Sam takes a long stride to keep in step with him.  “This place could be playin’ tricks on us, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of tricks?  That doesn’t make sense.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, maybe you always wanted a daughter,” Dean grumbles, “I don’t care.  I just wanna get the fuck outta here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did she call you---?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sam,” Dean says, maybe a bit too loud.  Syd throws a glance over her shoulder before continuing.  Dean cuts his eyes to Sam again with a low whisper, “I think we should be worried about gettin’ outta here before this place fucks with our heads even more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a sideways confession.  When Dean gets rattled---</span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> rattled---it’s obvious.  And, quite often, Sam doesn’t know what to do with his big brother in that state.  Usually, he can reign him in before it hits a level no one can stop but Sam feels like he’s in the same boat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But Dean doesn’t want to talk about it.  So Sam will play the willfully ignorant little brother.  He clears his throat.  “So...Syd…”  When he gets a grunt for a reply, Sam tries hard not to think of where she may have gotten that habit from.  “That short for Sydney?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean whacks his shoulder, giving him a disbelieving look.  Sam shrugs sheepishly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d you end up here?” Sam tries again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not---” Syd quietly huffs and slows her pace.  “I thought I found somethin’ worth lookin’ into.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“And did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sure yet.  Have to keep lookin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This is going nowhere.  “Do you know what this place is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She finally stops, raising an eyebrow at them.  “You don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam briefly glances at his brother, feeling rather self-conscious about their failed attempt at research.  Great.  “We...didn’t get far.  They kinda threw us in here before we could get anywhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The amount of disappointment on her face makes Sam want to squirm.  Dean’s already shifted his footing next to him, obviously uncomfortable under her scrutiny.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We, uh,” Dean supplies, unhelpfully, “have some theories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd turns back around, clearly unimpressed.  “You taught me better than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.  We didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sam wants to say back.  There’s a part of him that wants to yell at someone about this situation.  This is just too ridiculous.  They fall down the rabbit hole and find a daughter?  They’ve come across weird before.  It’s practically what they live and breathe but this is another level that’s simply too much to grasp.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll tell you what I know when we set up camp somewhere,” Syd tells them.  “But we have to stick by the water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s instantly against that idea.  “We’ll be targets by the---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The creek is special,” she interrupts, “It’s like a barrier.  Trust me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Dean’s right.  She could be here to fuck with their heads.  Sam doesn’t think his deepish wish is to have a kid but her purpose could be to drive them into danger.  It wouldn’t be the first time they put their eggs into one basket and to have everything go to shit.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks back to the red grass creatures.  They had been cautious around the water, almost afraid to go near it.  Even the plant creature that’s following them doesn’t seem to want to get close to the creek.  But Sam had contributed that to the shyness of foreigners in its world.  Now he’s wondering if there’s some weight to her statement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean, who has been rather quiet ever since they ran into Syd, shrugs when Sam looks to him for an answer.  Sam sighs out.  “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Making camp isn’t as hard a task as Sam had originally thought.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd takes to the job like a fish to water.  Wordlessly, she begins to set up a space by the water, clearing out dead leaves and branches to make room for them.  Both Sam and Dean quietly help in whatever way they can.  Without any clear instructions, it proves difficult to follow her lead, though.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She hasn’t talked to them much.  Sam figures that might have something to do with her disappointment.  And maybe that’s not quite the right word.  Sam would like to say he’s had his fair share of crushed hope.  There had been that spark in her face.  The flared anticipation was written all over her features until she was met with their confusion and denial.  Something twisted in his chest when he saw that.  His discomfort with her seeds from that moment and he wonders if Dean feels the same.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting firewood,” she suddenly declares, already heading off in some direction.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait---” Sam flounders for a good reason he’s stalled her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s Dean who comes to his rescue.  “Shouldn’t someone come with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a flash of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> across her face, vulnerable and young, but she hardens her features and straightens her back before Sam can put a name to it.  “I’ve been out here longer than you have.  And by myself.  I think I’m okay to grab some firewood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, she’s gone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sighing out, Sam slumps down against a tree and rests his arms over his knees.  Dean’s still staring after her, like he’s ready to yell a comeback.  But he doesn’t and simply leaves it alone, which shouldn’t surprise Sam as much as it does.  They’ve done the protective routine with capable strangers before but this feels different.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean begins pacing back and forth in front of him.  Sam willfully ignores the years old habit and reaches into his pocket for the quartz stone.  It still sparkles, though it’s dimmer in the dusk light.  It’ll be dark soon.  He wonders if it will still light up in the night.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He huffs, resting his head back on the tree’s trunk and closes his eyes.  If they don’t figure this place out soon, they’ll just keep getting more questions than answers.  He thinks back to his previous thought of alternate timelines.  Maybe they simply entered a world where monsters are more noticeable.  A world where versions of Sam and Dean are used to this level of weird and magical.  A world where they’ve raised a </span>
  <em>
    <span>daughter</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe this is part of the test,” Dean says, kind of out of nowhere.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opens one eye.  His brother has stopped pacing and is now rubbing his forehead with one hand, as if he has a migraine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t those assholes say we were gonna be tested?  This could be part of it,” he suggests.  “She could just be part of this whole elaborate, fucked up test.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s weight to that theory.  They’ve both had to battle through their own tribulations through dream worlds, hallucinations and the like.  But...that doesn’t explain a lot.  She seems...genuine.  A real person, who has agency, hopes, dreams and fears.  She reacted in such a human way.  It doesn’t seem like this could be part of a test.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opens both eyes to frown at him.  “A test for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I dunno, Sam,” Dean says, exasperated.  “To show us what we could have had?  Like I said, this could all be for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What we could have had.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I---” Sam cuts himself off.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never wanted kids.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s such a bold statement and something he’s not quite proud of admitting.  The lack of desire stems from his own upbringing.  Even when things were serious with Jess and they were starting a new life together, he hadn’t wanted kids.  It came with the bitterness towards their father.  But now?  Sam knows he’ll never leave the hunting life.  “I don’t think that’s it, Dean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then it’s to throw us off our game or somethin’, ‘kay?”  Dean throws his hands up and goes back to pacing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam narrows his eyes and tilts his head as he studies him.  Dean’s reaction to this situation feels so visceral, Sam’s not even sure it’s the surroundings still bothering him.  It’s this new variable: Syd.  It’s messing with him, for whatever reason.  Sam blinks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.  Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> it to be a test for Sam.  Because if this place is testing Sam with a daughter he never had, then Dean doesn’t have to worry about it being a test for him.  But that still doesn’t account for the edginess Dean’s sporting. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“She called us both her parents,” Sam says aloud before he can stop himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean freezes, snaps his attention to him.  “Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>If she’s real, then that means there’s a version of them that raised a daughter together.  Allowed her to call them both </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  The full weight of that suddenly catches up to him.  The implication of what it is.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s uncomfortable because there’s a Sam and Dean out there that had a different level of intimacy than they have.  Sam stalls his thoughts.  That’s not fair.  There’s plenty of good family members who take on raising kids together.  But he hasn’t come across any parents who are </span>
  <em>
    <span>related</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s…” Sam swallows, “...there’s probably a good reason for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Because if he’s honest with himself, maybe that level of intimacy he’s imagining isn’t completely platonic.  Maybe Syd’s Sam and Dean aren’t just brothers.  Maybe they’re comfortable with shifting their relationship into a different slot that so wildly contrasts the one he has now.  Maybe---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s not talk about it,” Dean says, his voice gravel rough and strained.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s getting darker and Sam’s thankful for it because maybe Dean hadn’t caught the brief flash of disappointment on his face.  “Yeah, sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He won’t push it.  Not with this.  His head has felt foggy since being here and it hasn’t gone away.  One wrong word and it could send them both into a frenzied argument.  Sam has to be careful.  There’s something about this place that has him feeling---well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>loose</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  His thoughts and actions just tumble out of him like an instinct and it’s getting harder to reign himself in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’ll figure it out.  They’ll get back home and they’ll brush it off as just another thing that happened.  Sam tries hard not to feel bitter about that.  Maybe he wants to think about the what if’s.  Aches to know Jess’ daughter.  Aches to know how they raised her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sam has to focus.  It does no good for him to dwell.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Syd returns, Dean instantly volunteers himself to look around.  For a moment, Sam considers asking him nicely not to disturb Herb, who is probably hiding behind one of the trees but thinks better of it.  They haven’t spoken to each other much since that last conversation and Sam’s felt fidgety since then.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd dumps all the firewood in the middle and Sam helps her get a decent fire going.  They politely dance around each other, keeping enough space between them so that they don’t get too close.  But eventually the task is completed and Sam’s stuck where he was before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down by the fire, fully taking in the growing darkness.  Dusk here in this world seems to take longer.  But it’s then he notices the strange glow emanated from the creek.  In daylight, the water seems to be a light pink color.  The rose quartz crystals at the bottom seem to reflect a hue.  But now there’s a soft light coming from it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He inches closer, curious.  At the bottom of the creek, the crystals with tiny fireworks inside seem to have grown brighter.  He knows it’s because of the lack of daylight but it’s so obvious now.  He breathes out with a small smile.  This space is so fascinating.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the creek that connects worlds,” Syd says from her spot by the fire.  He turns his attention to her, silently waiting for more explanation.  She sighs and brings her knees to her chest, hugging them.  “It’s the neutral zone.  None of the creatures from this world touch it.  Even the deer and other animals don’t come close.  Not sure what happens if they do.  They just...don’t go near it.  The Tamed are pretty jumpy around it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we get back?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s...complicated,” Syd mutters, her gaze on the fire.  The flickering light defines her features and he’s struck by how much she looks like Jess.  It’s undeniable.  “You have to meet Raina.  She opens the door if you haven’t become part of the Tamed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Tamed.  The creatures?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nods once.  “All the creatures here were once people.  They’re not bad.  They just...they play for teams, I guess.  They pick a human they think is best to become one of them.  If you’re here long enough, you don’t mind becoming one of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you were running from before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she admits, “I was running to the creek so that they’d leave me alone.  I haven’t seen them since I ran into you guys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet then.  Sam still has so many questions but mostly he’s impressed by her knowledge of this world.  He wants to ask her how she knows but he suspects it’ll be the flat answer of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Research, duh.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here, Syd?” he asks, quietly, scooting back to the fire across from her.  “You hunting something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She raises her gaze to meet his then.  Her light eyes glitter and she brings a hand to palm them, like before.  “You could say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he can ask another question, Dean has returned.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>During the day, it’s oddly quiet.  Dean’s used to the ominous silence; it’s practically a huge part of their lives.  But in the woods, he’s used to birdsongs, winds rustling tree branches and anything else Mother Nature sounds like.  Here?  It’s different.  There has been an eerie silence since they’ve gotten here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But nighttime is even quieter.  The only noise he can hear is Syd and Sam’s steady breathing and the rush of water.  He lolls his head to the side, taking another look at the pink glow that emanates from the creek.  It would be beautiful if he had any idea of the mechanics of this world.  Or at least had a better understanding of it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This place is so fucking weird.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had filled him in about some of things Syd said while she went to fill up her water bottle.  Apparently, the water is good to drink, which is useful to know.  Not that Dean’s going to chance it.  Syd shared some beef jerky she had in her bag.  She told them nothing will </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt </span>
  </em>
  <span>them in this world but Dean’s not about to take her word for it.  As sincere as she seems, Dean’s not willing to let go of his theory that she’s part of some elaborate test.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighs out, turns his eyes to the night sky.  It’s littered with flickering stars.  He used to love doing this.  Star gazing.  Something he had shared with Sam for a better part of their lives.  They don’t spend much time under the stars anymore.  Either they’re sleeping under cement in the bunker or under the Impala’s roof.  There’s no real excuse to drink beers and lay out on Baby’s hood to watch whatever meteor shower Sam was interested in witnessing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they’re in some strange world, under strange stars, next to a strange creek and stuck with a strange girl.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuts his eyes tight, which doesn’t help the thoughts crossing his mind.  He had been good about keeping it out.  That awful gnawing feeling in the corners of his brain, whispering things he had left behind so long ago.  And he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had </span>
  </em>
  <span>left those things.  Back in a cemetery, after a hole opened up and swallowed Sammy.  He had to.  Hell might have enunciated desires he had just under the surface but he shoved everything away in a trunk, along with everything else that reminded him of Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean got up quietly, feeling the need for a walk.  Right on the perimeter of their little camp rests a small stretch of red long grass.  He had watched before coming back from his previous walk as the plant creature (a Tamed?) laid itself down on the ground, still facing Sam’s direction, and melted into the soil.  It unraveled itself, turning into a patch of grass.  Just like the kind Sam and Dean had walked out of to get to the woods.  He hadn’t mentioned it yet.  It really hasn’t done anything harmful.  Yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets to a small clearing and breathes out.  Shadows shift every so often as he does, as if his presence alone disturbs everything around them.  The air still smells of something he can’t place.  It’s familiar, though he can’t remember what it is.  But, strangely, he associates it with Sam, as vague as that is.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs a hand over his face, sighing out with some frustration.  This place is messing with him.  He knows it.  This has to be part of some trial, no matter what Syd says.  Or what </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span> says.   If anything, they should run away from Syd or anything remotely close to something they’d ever want.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam said he never wanted kids.  He’s expressed similar sentiments in the past.  It’s Dean’s thing.  He always wanted a kid.  Or several, whatever.  That normal, stupid life.  A life where he’s blissfully unaware of monsters and dark things.  And this place shoves it right in his face.  A kid.  A kid he was raising with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He imagines what that life would have been like.  Would they have wanted to hunt after that?  Would they have been like their Dad?  Take the kid all over the States and teach her how to protect herself?  Did they hide away? When had she decided to start calling Dean a dad?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>What were Sam and Dean to each other in that world?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the heavier question, actually.  If they were parents to one kid, that means---well, Dean’s not an idiot.  And he knows in any world, he’d be desperately, pathologically in love with Sam.  Any version of himself would be.  In some demented way, he’d be obcessing over Sam no matter how much he tried to smother it.  That’s no surprise to Dean.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But if Syd’s real, that would mean there’s a Dean out there who was willing to take a chance.  But Sam---this world is different.  His Sam doesn’t have a daughter.  And Dean doesn’t know what else could have happened to have Sam stumbling into a relationship with him.  But that’s never been the case here.  His Sam---he’s sure Sam would never pursue it.  That’s just not an option.  Not after all they’ve been through.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The stars are different,” a quiet voice startles him and he finds the man who is the center of his coiling thoughts.  Sam’s staring up at the sky and Dean catches himself staring at the long stretch of his brother’s neck.  He swallows before Sam’s looking back with traces of a wistful smile.  “It’s like all the constellations decided to jumble together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It does seem like the sky has overlayered itself with the different seasons.  Polaris is the only one that he can spot that’s in the same place as always.  But all the other stars are a mess.  He thinks he could spot Orian’s Belt but there’s other glittered dots in between.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Sam says, almost cautiously.  It’s the typical tone of </span>
  <em>
    <span>I want to talk about something you don’t want to.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t spoken much to Sam since their last discussion.  Sam had told him what Syd said but Dean didn’t say much back.  Their last talk had been about---well, the bullshit of what Syd could represent.  And he doesn’t want to approach that subject ever again.  If Syd is real?  Fine.  He’ll respect her as another hunter.  But he can’t acknowledge the daughter aspect.  Especially when…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There’s probably a good reason for it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam had a look on his face that Dean hasn’t seen in awhile.  A touch of panic mixed with faulty justification.  They </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what Syd means.  Dean had watched as that moment of realization hit Sam.  Watched as the gentle nonchalance melted into something close to fear.  He can’t deal with that.  Not when they’re finally in a good place.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you wanna know what her life’s been like?” Sam asks, an edge to his voice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course Sam would want to know everything.  What Dean avoids is exactly what Sam runs after.  Frustrated, Dean narrows his eyes and answers gruffly, “No, Sam, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  What does it matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s hands flounder as he shrugs sheepishly, finally shoving them in his jacket pockets.  “Maybe they did some things right, I don’t know.  It could help us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who cares?  We can’t change anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam frowns at that.  “Couldn’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean can think of one thing he’d like to change.  But that’s not enough for him to relent.  “That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>their</span>
  </em>
  <span> lives, Sam.  We don’t have a daughter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re both quiet after that.  Dean feels caught by his own words and Sam is staring at him as if it had been the wrong thing to say.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He said </span>
  <em>
    <span>we</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” Dean snaps, “You play twenty questions with her all you want.  I don’t wanna know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Sam says gently, as if he’s a damn child, “It doesn’t mean anything.  She had two father figures.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Doesn’t mean anything.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it, Sam,” he warns.  “We’re not talking about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It bothers you,” Sam replies firmly, “I know.  It’s weird but---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t stand it anymore.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>gets</span>
  </em>
  <span> it.  Sam hates the idea.  And he should.  Because whatever the fuck the Sam and Dean in that world got up to probably wasn’t platonic.  But there’s a coiling in his chest and he can’t stop himself when he gets in Sam’s space.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand reaches out, instinctively pulls Sam closer to him when he growls, “Sam, I said </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sam does, too shocked to even move.  His face is only a breath away from Sam’s and he can see Sam’s light eyes widen a fraction.  It’s not fear.  Sam’s stunned.  Dean wants to release him, apologize, tell him just to drop it but he stays there, frozen.  He’s surprised them both.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>God, what is wrong with him?  This place has to be doing things to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother’s eyes soften then.  It’s like he can see right through him.  And, often, Dean’s afraid of that.  Sam understands his fears intimately.  Calls out his insecurities to his face.  It’s what a brother does, isn’t it?  But Sam’s usually gentle with it.  Carries Dean’s issues as if they’re his own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But, right now, it’s different.  This is another level of fucked up.  There's a smile on his lips, the sorrowful sort.  Resigned.  He tilts his head slightly and his shoulders drop, his whole body slack against Dean’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam breathes out with a, “This is what you’re afraid of, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t make sense that Dean’s only answer is to crush his lips against Sam’s.  He could have stepped back, denied it all.  Maybe even stay silent, march back to the camp.  But he kisses him instead.  And for whatever reason, he’s numb to logic.  He’s never been good with words, anyway.  It would frustrate him, at times, that Sam could put words to what Dean’s feeling, say them out loud.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This feels like one of those times.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s tense against him again, not even making a move.  He’s warm.  Always has been a furnace since he was a kid.  Dean’s always felt too cold, always seeking warmth from a distant star.  That’s how it’s always worked, hasn’t it?  Dean’s always chasing him, no matter where Sam’s gone.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand is holding the side of Sam’s face, fingers threaded through his hair.  He can’t remember when he put it there.  But when Sam’s body begins to relax against him, he feels his brain finally catching up, scrambling to make sense of what he’s just done.  Sam’s lips part against his and the reality sets in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean snatches his hand back, taking a step back away from the inviting warmth.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.  Fuckfuckfuck.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He takes in a ragged breath, swallows.  His eyes burn but he quickly presses the heels of his hands to them, smothering the feeling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam will want an explanation, he knows.  Hell, he deserves it.  But Dean doesn’t have one.  He had done the </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing he’d known he wouldn’t do all his life and he was about to drag Sam down with him.  The horror of that strikes him there, like jagged lightning.  He wants to run.  Get away from Sam, away from Syd, away from this freaky ass world they’ve stumbled into.  Away from himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he breathes out, shakes his head.  “Just---just forget it, Sammy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He peers up and wishes he hadn’t.  Sam’s looking at him with an open expression of confusion and some grief.  Another ache in his chest hits him and Dean backs up further.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  What is wrong with him?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I---I get it,” Sam stammars out, shifting only a fraction closer.  Like Dean’s some wild animal, scared and ready to bolt.  “You---wanted to see if---” He’s frowning, as if trying to find the right words.  There aren’t any for this situation.  “Wanted to know if it could be like them?  If we’d---we could ever be like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean can’t help but stare warily at his brother.  Whatever self-defense mechanism Sam’s built up this time around, he hadn’t expected this.  Maybe something close; a different kind of rationalization.  Some anger would have been welcomed.  At least Dean knows how to counter Sam’s bright fury.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sam’s just standing there, looking smaller than he should.  His shoulders hunched, hands wringing at each other until being stuffed into pockets, hair shuffled and in his face.  It’s not an unfamiliar sight but the situation is so terrifyingly new.  All because Dean had been a dumbass.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, Dean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s giving him an out.  And Dean’s going to selfishly take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Sammy,” he says and his mouth tastes like ash.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s something dark coiling in his chest, ready to eat him from the inside.  It only grows when he watches Sam nodding, tight lipped and eyes averted.  A desire to soothe out the obvious affliction on Sam rushes through Dean.  He’s done it most of their lives---or, at least, attempted to---and he can’t fathom how to work it out this time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>snap</span>
  </em>
  <span> behind him.  A rustling noise follows.  He turns completely around with alarm until he finds the sources of the new sounds.  Dark forms loom behind the trees, tall and ominous.  In the darkness, it’s hard to make out any details but they’re familiar.  At least three or four of the tree creatures.  Dark wood and bark make out their bodies with elongated limbs, a couple leaning against the trees they hid behind.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite them not having faces, he knows they’re looking at him.  They probably are aware of Sam’s presence but he just knows.  One of the tree monsters cocks its head at Dean, the scritch-scratch sound of bark and wood grating together echoes in his ears.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean backs away, feels the tug of Sam’s fingers on his jacket.  “Dean...we should go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows and nods.  Wordlessly, they make they’re way to the camp, where Syd is still sleeping by a glowing creek.  Dean still feels the stares of faceless creatures as he lays on his side on the forest floor.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Since the days here are longer, it only makes sense the nights would be too.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s opts to travel closer to Syd, which doesn’t seem to bother her as much as he thought it would.  In fact, she seems chattier with a companion now walking beside her.  While there’s an underlying thrum of weariness to her voice, she seems to be attempting politeness, which is more than what Sam could ask for.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It also helps distract himself from how Dean’s nearly ignored both their existences.  He hasn’t spoken to anyone or even looked at them in the past couple of hours of moving upstream.  He walks a few paces behind both Sam and Syd.  An awful part of Sam is grateful for it because he’d rather not address what had happened between them a few hours ago.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that…  Well.  He doesn’t know what the hell happened.  And maybe it’s best he doesn’t think much about it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A rustling from a distance catches his attention.  He spies the tangled grass creature duck behind a tree not too far from them.  The thing is still noticeable but it acts as if they can’t see it.  It’s so...childlike.  Sam might have a bit of a fondness for it.  He glances back to Syd, who narrows her eyes at the creature then him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t believe you guys came here unprepared,” Syd mutters, looking back ahead of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not going to defend himself.  It </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been reckless.  They torch a tree creature and come running to the town with no real research beside a scary bedtime story.  They’ve done far more for far less.  But it’s no real excuse.  They’ve managed to be pushed into a portal to another world and, if they hadn’t come across Syd, they still wouldn’t know what the hell to do.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you can help us out,” Sam tries gingerly, “We still don’t understand how this even exists.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“This place?”  Syd raises an eyebrow at him.  “Or me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinks, taken aback.  How’s he supposed to answer that?  He’s about to respond with a feeble </span>
  <em>
    <span>Both?</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she cracks a grin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kidding,” she chuckles, shaking her head.  “I know what you meant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes out a small laugh with her but it feels more like relief.  “Yeah.”  He looks downwards, the stars and the luminous creek still their only light source.  “So...you mentioned someone before.  Raya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Raina,” Syd corrects him, “She was the witch that created this place.  Everything I’ve learned came from Mathius Ortega’s journal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd rummages through her satchel until she pulls out a rather worn looking book.  Sam cocks his head to the side with interest.  He has the urge to look back at Dean to gauge his reaction but catches himself before he does.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s some adventure from the early 1900’s.  Came here and studied the place.  He’s the only person who has made multiple trips to this world.  At least, on record.  Here,” Syd shoves the journal towards him and he takes it.  “It’s assumed he became one of the Tamed though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam studies the aged leather cover of the journal, scratched and used.  Flipping through the first few pages, he realizes it’s mostly logs.  Dates and observations.  He’d have to sit down and actually take a look at it when the sun is out.  He decides to keep it.  Syd will ask for it when she wants.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you come across this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of digging but mostly dumb luck,” Syd explains with a shrug, “We were looking for something related to time travel but stumble across the journal instead.  When we got to the town, the locals were pretty cool about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so many questions running through his head.  There’s the implication that there’s someone else with Syd.  And if that’s the case, where are they?  Is it the other Sam and Dean?  And why time travel?  What’s this girl getting into?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s Dean who beats him to it, “Yeah, no.  Those assholes threw us in here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming you guys trespassed and didn’t bother even asking them anything,” Syd responds, without missing a beat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They both don’t have much to say about that.  She’s not wrong.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, this place is supposed to cross different timelines, different realities.  Ortega had a theory that Raina---the witch---created this place at the very moment her other selves did.  So each of those realities share this one world in common.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like a crossroads,” Sam murmurs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not...impossible.  If they’ve been to other worlds, Sam guesses that isn’t the craziest suggestion.  It would explain how they’re even able to meet Syd in the first place.  There’s no telling how many other worlds are connected to each other then.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This world obviously has rules, though.  There has to be a balance somewhere.  If the witch managed to produce a whole pocket dimension with magic, there’s a push and pull.  It allows people in and out but as long as they, what?  Don’t become part of the monsters?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam spares a glance to the dark figure following them loosely, shifting between tree trunks and keeping up.  He swallows.  “So every creature here used to be a person?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Syd says quietly, “They…well.  Ortega says it’s more like a choice to become one.  Certain Tamed are attracted to different people.  Like your buddy over there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam raises an eyebrow.  “The grass monster?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s following you, right?”  Syd asks and Sam nods.  She scoffs.  “Figures one of those would like you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam has </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> many questions about that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The red grass Tamed ones are drawn to people who are adaptable but ultimately...broken easily,” she explains and that sorta...that stings a bit.  “Ortega wrote a section about all the Tamed ones and his theories.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d have to look at that later.  Maybe to feel better for being called fragile, in an off handed way.  “Will Raina let us go back home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“She lets anyone pass through.  She’s not evil,” Syd says, “But I’m not looking for her yet.  I’m just getting you guys there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve stopped by the creek again to rest for a bit when Dean finally works up the nerve to talk to Syd.  She seems more talkative around Sam, which isn’t surprising.  Everyone eventually falls into Sam’s orbit and opens up.  He’s witnessed it enough times to recognize she’s growing comfortable with his little brother’s presence.  Dean, however, hasn’t made much of an effort.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s decided that Syd isn’t part of some test.  Sam’s convinced of anything Syd has to say and while Dean has some doubts, he doesn’t have much of a reason to suspect she’s lying.  She’s hiding things, sure.  But she hasn’t lied to them yet.  Which is somewhat comforting, he thinks.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd’s filling her water up when he decides to approach her.  Sam’s off reading under the shade of a tree with that weird ass creature peering behind it.  Sam doesn’t seem to mind the damn thing is wanting him to </span>
  <em>
    <span>become</span>
  </em>
  <span> a creature but whatever.  They’ll deal with that later.  He’ll light up the damn thing himself if it makes a move on him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He crouches down next to Syd as she plops down by the edge of the water.  The crystals at the bottom have lost the glow in the sunlight but they still hold the tiny sparks if he looks close enough.  Syd glances up and her face hardens slightly.  He tries not to take offense.  He might empathize.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re dead,” Dean says quietly, “Aren’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd’s whole body goes rigid and her eyes widen.  Her hands twitch and he thinks he might get punched in the face for it.  He wouldn’t blame her.  But he’s got to know.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But then her shoulders slump and she turns her gaze to the creek.  Mutely, she nods her head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you think they’d be here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was in Dad’s logs,” she murmurs, a quick glance in Sam’s direction, “He didn’t say he ever went there.  I just remembered the place when I came across the journal.  Thought maybe...if this place bended time and space…  I don’t know.  I just hoped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to say something comforting.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> sits right on his tongue but it doesn’t feel quite right.  He gets it.  She lost people important to her and now she’s doing whatever she can to get them back.  Grief...does that shit to someone.  And, fuck, does he know it.  The things he’s done to get the universe to deliver Sam back to him…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agrees, “That’s fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You both are so like them,” she says, unprompted.  “Say the same things.  Sound like them.  But...I don’t know.  Something’s off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>We don’t have a kid.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He can’t stop his next question, “Are we---why do you call us both Dad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a frown on her face, like he’s asked a completely stupid question before she shrugs.  “It’s just what I’ve called you since I can remember.  When you’re together, I’d call you Pops.  But you never cared for it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why...why not Uncle?” He’s going to regret this.  He’s already regretting it.  Why hasn’t he shut up yet?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd gives him a look in the corner of her eye and there’s something a lot like pity there.  “I think you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a gut punch.  He doesn’t want to acknowledge it.  But he’s a masochistic idiot, apparently, who likes to just dig a hole deeper and deeper until he can’t get out.  His heart thuds in his chest as he says, “We’re together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno why you’re surprised,” Syd says, but not unkindly.  “It wasn’t always like that.  I don’t think anyway.”  She frowns again, looking thoughtful.  “Something changed after the angels fell.  You guys...seemed different.  I was around...eleven, I think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The church.  He can’t imagine the different possibilities of her world.  The differences are probably staggering.  Her mother must have still died in the fire.  And if that’s the case, did Sam have to pull his daughter out?  Did Dean have to drag them both out?  What was facing Lucifer and Michael like, knowing they had a kid tucked away somewhere?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knows what would have changed if she’s talking about the angels falling.  And that had been a time Dean thought he’d lose Sam forever.  It had been such a shock to his system that every word out of his mouth had been too honest.  He had been so desperate, wrapping Sam’s hand up in a bandana, hoping Sam wouldn’t rip it off and finish the last trial.  He couldn’t deal with the idea Sam had been so willing to leave him </span>
  <em>
    <span>again</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  For the greater good of the fucking world.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean lets out the breath he’d been holding, closing his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know it was a long shot but...I thought maybe I’d find you guys.  I couldn’t believe it when I saw you...I was just so---”  She cuts herself off, draws her knees to her chest and hugs them.  She seems too young, too small, at that moment.  “I just hoped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs out, stands up.  He gets it.  Hates that he understands that desperation.  He pats her shoulder, hopes that it’s not too awkward, and says, “You’re a good kid, Syd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffs and returns, “You used to say that too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers a time when things were much more complicated than this.  Sam used to worry over problems too big for the world until his impulse to run kicked in.  But, in the end, the issues he’d fret over the most were those connected to Dean in some shape or form.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This thing? It’s setting in.  Sam has a great gift of skirting problems; he’s done it for awhile.  He can avoid them easily.  It’s different this time.  There’s no place to run and hide.  Nowhere to go where Dean won’t be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he could stop thinking about it but---well.  Dean’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Not talking to Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss feels as if it’s lingered on his lips, marked by Dean’s bruising force. He’s caught himself bringing the back of his hand to his mouth several times already, as if to keep it there.  It’s not enough that Dean had to go and kiss him, Sam had to give him an excuse </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows Dean’s confused.  And that’s all right.  Sam would probably be in the same boat if all this was dumped on them.  And given their already mangled relationship, he supposes Dean’s actions could be explained away.  Especially with Dean’s impulsive tendances.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll try anything once</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what he used to say, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Sam would have thought he’d give incest a try but, sure, whatever.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd’s in the creek now, fishing for stones.  Dean’s helping her, so that means Sam’s not.  There’s a distance between them and he’s not sure if they’re both repelling each other on purpose.  It seems like a combined effort to stay away, though.  Sam’s not willing to get too close only for Dean to flinch away.  He’d rather not deal with that right now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>So he’s stuck reading Ortega’s journal, which turns out to be interesting.  Some of it is in Spanish, which he’s had to pull from his memory bank to translate.  Ortega had been an explorer but of the supernatural sort.  He mentions following rumors of the fountain of youth and ended up near the Great Lakes when he found this world.  He called it Gaia.  Sam doesn’t quite appreciate the reference but maybe it fits.  Everything in this world seems to be breathing and living, all connected to a twisted version of Mother Earth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The observations of the creatures have their own section.  There’s monsters Sam hasn’t seen yet.  Small winged creatures that are made of white leaves of trees.  In the detailed drawings, they look more like fairies.  There’s not one creature that lives in water, though.  The creek seems to be a warding.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets to the tree monsters.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Attracted to those with deep roots in their lives.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavy guilt of their past lives </span>
  </em>
  <span>and has to flip the page.  Those tree monsters from last night...they had been there for Dean.  They showed up right after the kiss.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam closes his eyes tight.  Dean’s guilt has a kickback like a shotgun.  Fast and strong.  And kissing Sam had obviously pushed him over some metaphorical edge.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another rustling from behind him and he snaps his eyes open to spy the red-stemmed creature approaching him gingerly, like a hurt dog.  It crouches on its haunches, scooting closer.  Sam tilts his head and decides to lower himself to ground to meet its eye level, curious.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature reaches out, like it had before, and Sam lets it.  Slowly, grass-threaded fingers stretch to touch Sam.  But they unravel before they even get close to his skin.  It withdraws, inching closer.  Sam holds his breath and hopes Dean isn’t looking in his direction as this happens.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It points to his jacket.  He frowns, following where it’s indicating.  His pocket.  He stuffs a hand inside, his fingers finding the only item there: the crystal from the creek. He pulls it out and presents it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“This?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It nods once.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is why you can’t touch me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Another nod.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Well.  That’s comforting on some level.  But Sam wants to test a theory.  He tosses it not too far away and watches for a reaction.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It reaches out again, getting closer.  He can hear the thousands of grass stems move against each other and it reminds him of when the wind blows in a field of corn.  Smooth and coarse all at once.  The rough stemmed fingers graze along his forehead and trace down the side of his face.  The touch is cold and soothing all at once.  He closes his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s oddly comforting.  It’s a feeling that comes with good memories and wistful longing.  Nostalgia.  Times when he had forgotten his anger and watched fireworks under a moonless sky or waking up to the smell of breakfast and Dean’s hands gently shaking him out of slumber.  It’s the feeling when Jess came back from night classes with a wide smile on her face when she saw him sitting at the table.  That feeling he got when they’re on a long stretch of road with nothing but old 80’s band music blaring, Dean’s hands drumming the wheel and the smirk thrown Sam’s way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A different type of bliss, maybe.  And he wants to welcome it.  He’d like to fall into that endless array of good memories and joy.  But---but there’s something.  He has to pull away for a reason but he doesn’t quite remember.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That reason promptly grabs his collar and drags him away until his back hits the forest floor, knocking the wind out of him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!  Get the fuck outta here!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam opens his eyes in time to see Dean over him and pulling him up by his shirt.  Over his shoulder, he spies the creature scrambling away.  Another pair of footsteps tells him Syd’s decided to join in.  He turns his attention to Dean, who is far closer to his face than he remembers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns, attempting to catch up to the present.  He'd just been---he’d been happy a few seconds ago.  What’s he supposed to be now?  All he feels is confusion and---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sam,” Dean seethes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>By instinct, Sam wants to defend himself but he’s having a hard time coming up for an argument.  “I wasn’t gonna…”  There had been a reason.  He wasn’t going to go through with whatever that was.  An invitation?  It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>asking</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to join it.  And it felt---okay.  Okay to be free like that.  But he wanted to say no.  Why was he going to say no?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care,” Dean snaps, pulling them both up with a grunt.  “You pull that shit again---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t gonna let it,” says a rather calm Syd.  They both turn to her.  She sighs, picking up the crystal Sam had thrown just a minute ago.  “He’s not stupid.  This world messes with your inhibitions but he wouldn’t have done it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam takes the crystal back that Syd offers, holding it loosely in his hands when he realizes Dean’s still got him by the shirt.  He turns back to face him, which is such a stupid mistake.  They’re close.  Too close.  And Dean seems to realize it the moment Sam does.  His face hardens and he releases Sam instantly, backing away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want a plant for a brother,” Dean says.  He’s attempting his typical brand of angry humor, which feels just about right.  He’s embarrassed for being caught so close to Sam.  At least, that’s Sam’s best guess.  “Stay the hell away from that thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sam murmurs, putting the crystal back in his pocket.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When Dean meets this witch, he might have to be held back from killing her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd explains the witch isn’t a bad one.  Just someone with enormous power, who decided to create a whole freak world to get away from the real one, apparently.  She’s about two centuries old, according to Sam, who has been mindlessly reading aloud lines from that journal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s a bitch because he’s still stuck in his own world trying to think about anything else that doesn’t have to do with Sam at all.  But of course, Sam has no clue and continues talking with Syd, as if Dean isn’t even there.  Syd’s in between them, like a buffer, and he suspects she had done that on purpose.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the tree Tamed that are after me,” Syd tells them quietly, conversationally, “I’ve got...baggage, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not at all what Dean wanted to hear but, sure, rub salt in it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, all Tamed go after certain baggage.  Mine just happens to be their favorite.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He spares a side glance at Sam, who seems to be deliberately looking ahead.  He’s not sure what he’d prefer.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So why don’t you have a partner?  Pretty sure the first thing I’d teach you about hunting is to have someone watching your back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, the first thing you taught me was how to clean firearms,” Syd says and laughs.  It’s oddly contagious, a joyful kind of sound.  Both Sam and Dean join her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sam agrees, “Sounds about right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean catches Sam’s eye then.  There’s a thoughtful expression on his face, the remnants of that smile still there on his mouth.  Dean’s stomach coils, that familiar longing creeping back and he looks away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a partner, though,” Syd tells them.  “I have Ben.  And he’d probably put you to shame,” she gestures to Dean, which he doesn’t know how to feel about that.  “He’s waiting for me on the outside.  Said if I didn’t come back after three days, he’s coming after me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ben?” Dean feels a sense of dread.  It’s a big world.  There’s a lot of Bens out there---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Ben Braeden.  I dunno if you ever met.  We lived with them for a bit but Lisa…  Well, anyway.  Ben kinda got officially adopted into the family after she died and we just became a weird hunting team.  Ben’s better with guns.  And I’m…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean doesn’t hear half of what Syd says after that.  His thoughts feel scattered and lost.  Lisa’s…  Dead?  He swallows.  There’s that guilt settling in his chest.  In Syd’s world, Sam and Dean were looking after </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> kids?  And Lisa had lost her life.  God, they really do curse everyone around them.  Dean briefly shuts his eyes and reminds himself that Lisa and Ben are living a good life, away from the Winchesters.  No where near danger.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway, what year is it for you guys?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh…” Sam provides, helpfully.  Obviously, he had been caught off guard by that bomb too.  “2017.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Syd murmurs and then seems to perk up.  “It’s 2025 where I’m from.  So that means---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Syd…” Sam says quietly and Dean can empathize.  “Maybe it’s better you get outta here.  Before, y’know, the Tamed catch up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Syd stops walking, staring at Sam like he had pushed her.  “Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Syd, look, I know we don’t know each other, not really, but I’m sure your dads wouldn’t want you---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>know you,” she insists, her voice wavering.  “I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Syd, we’re not your---” Dean begins before he’s cut off.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so bent on saving the world </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the damn time</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”  Her voice is rising, getting louder.  Her eyes narrow but there’s a glint in them.  Tears.  “You’d rather save it and sacrifice yourself together than stay and </span>
  <em>
    <span>live</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  You don’t even care who you leave behind!  You’re just assholes!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>With that, she pushes past them and moves on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean tosses a panicked look Sam’s way and he’s relieved to find he’s not the only one concerned with that outburst.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd decides to make her own little camp by the water, crystal stones surrounding her area with just enough space for her.  Dean assumes Sam might want to do the same but he makes a half-moon barrier with the crystals wide enough for the both of them.  There’s a few trees in between both their camps and he thinks Syd had done that purposefully, not wanting to even see them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam takes off his jacket and balls it up to make a pillow.  Dean recalls a time he used to complain about that.  Little bratty Sammy.  But always adaptable in any surroundings.  They had to be.  But that never stopped Sam from running his mouth as a kid.  Looking back, he thinks the whining had just been a way to get under their dad’s skin, which worked like a charm.  When it hadn’t been a balled up jacket, it had been Dean’s arm, which Sam would drool all over in his sleep but he didn’t complain about that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches Sam quietly as his little brother shuffles around their tiny camp.  There’s a strain in his movements.  Tiredness.  This trip is taking a toll on all of them.  They’ve barely eaten and have been walking in forest terrain most of the time.  He feels the ache in his own muscles too but he’s been distracted to notice.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam plops down, an arm’s length away from Dean.  He sighs out.  Dean decides to open his big mouth.  “Wonder what got us to bite the dust.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a stretch of silence before Sam incredulously whispers back, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> what you’re stuck on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean wants to answer him with a list of things he’s currently stuck on but that would be too much energy and would probably have Sam up and leave right after.  “No.  But if it’s to save the world…  I mean.  We don’t have many people left, Sammy.  We got Mom but...y’know.  We don’t have kids under our wing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But they got to live,” Sam says.  This debate feels familiar and Dean doesn’t want to hear the rest of it.  “Syd got to live because of whatever we did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But it fucked her up, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than dead,” he says and it sounds hollow.  As if they’ve rehearsed these lines before.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But it ignites a rage inside Dean.  Because it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> better than being dead.  Dean remembers Sam laying on an old cot in a ghost town and thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’d rather die.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He’s thought it so many times.  Without Sam, there’s no other existence he’s interested in.  They’ve been over this.  Hell, he’s gone over it a million times in his head.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He rolls over, whacks Sam’s shoulder.  Sam immediately flinches and looks at him with an indignant, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ow!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How can you say that?” Dean whisper-yells.  “You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what she’s feeling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” Sam hisses, “When Dad died, I accepted it.  With all the guilt, all that bitterness, I accepted it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“And when I died?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s form goes rigid and Dean realizes it had been the wrong thing to say.  He wishes he could take it back.  Shit.  Sam rolls onto his back again and closes his eyes.  “Don’t go there, Dean.  You don’t want to go there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, shut up, Dean.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Wanted to know if we could be like them?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're just mad because I’m right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right, Dean?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re mad because you know you hurt people every time you go off and do stupid shit.”  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Like at the church, like with Lucifier, like every time you fucking leave me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  “So don’t project your self-sacrificing bullshit on our not-daughter just because---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get beyond that because suddenly, Sam’s right above him.  Too close, too close.  He moves to push him off and possibly in the creek with how petty he’s feeling but Sam’s got a hand around his wrist, pinning it down by his head.  He narrows his eyes, stares at the light ones glaring down at him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” Sam hisses quietly, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>talking.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest heaves with the words and Dean feels himself get hot.  He needs air.  Needs space.  Because, right now, his skin is getting tighter and Sam’s straddling him, too close, too close.  Fuck, fuck, fuck.  He swallows, trying his best to quell the response his body wants to make.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s watching him but doesn’t at all seem to be in the moment.  His eyes skitter over Dean’s face, as if he’s just realizing how they’ve gotten into this situation.  Dean takes his chance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Bucking his hips, Dean manages to roll them both until he has Sam under him.  Before Sam can properly react, Dean’s got both his wrists above Sam’s head.  He smirks with his small victory and leans closer.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too close, too close</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes out, “Or what, Sammy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t get a real answer.  Instead, Sam cranes his neck up to press his mouth against Dean’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>In hindsight, he should have acted shocked.  Pulled himself away from his brother.  Be rational.  He’s fantasized Sam kissing him so many times before but he always knew what he </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> do.  And it’s a shame Dean doesn’t always do the right thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment Sam kisses him, Dean’s kissing him back with as much force.  It’s like an instinct.  Like a dam, he spills his desire out into that kiss, pushing Sam back onto the ground and holding him there.  He doesn’t even think about anything else besides </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s kissing back, Sam kissed me.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His tongue sweeps across Sam’s bottom lip and Sam lets him in easily, open and pliant and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants Sam this way always.  Just his.  A wave of possessiveness comes over him then and he’s biting at Sam’s lip, then his chin, to his jaw, his neck.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s panting, moans caught in his throat, suppressing his sounds.  He’d rather hear them, though.  He wants to hear all of Sam’s sounds, anything he can tug and pull out of him.  Fuck, he’s dreamed of it.  His hips involuntarily grind against Sam’s and there’s a distant glee in his head to find there’s evidence of Sam’s arousal there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, wait, Dean,” Sam huffs out, twisting his trapped wrists, still in Dean’s hands.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean groans, kissing along Sam’s exposed neck.  “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“This---this isn’t because---?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds strained, uncertain.  Dean pulls his head up at that.  Sam’s hair is a mess and he wishes there could be more light because he’d love to see the full flush over his skin in high definition.  He looks wrecked.  Fuck.  Another spark of lust thrums inside him and he wants to claim that mouth again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s eyes avert to the side, almost shyly but there’s uneasiness in his features.  “Of them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.  The other Sam and Dean, who obviously had no problem boning in their world.  Dean’s not entirely sure why they haven’t started if Sam would have been on board. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He stills.  Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Sam....isn’t on board?  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe you’re---we’re confused.  Because we know they…” Sam doesn’t finish.  He doesn’t have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean closes his eyes, quietly disentangling himself from Sam and instantly misses the warmth.  Fuck.  Sam hadn’t just made up that excuse for Dean last night.  He was talking about himself too.  Dean rolls onto his back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The guilt slams into him like a train, returning full force.  He should’ve done the fucking right thing.  He should’ve known better.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one who’s confused but he just thinks it’s the both of them.  Because of this stupid world.  What did Syd say?  Something about it messing with inhibitions; it makes sense Sam would kiss him.  But that’s twice he’s gotten to know what it feels like to kiss Sam and all he wants is more.  His stomach twists.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean...I’m just saying...maybe we can sort this out after all this is over and---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go to sleep, Sam,” he throws an arm over his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After all this is over, they’re not going to talk about it.  Dean will cut off his damn tongue if he has to.  He’d rather not hear Sam’s psychoanalysis of why they would want to try this out.  Dean’s the fucked up one.  Has been for a while now.  It’s not going to change things, anyway.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t sleep until he hears Sam’s breathing change, indicating he’s fallen into a slumber.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been a time Sam had thought maybe Dean could return his feelings.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a long time ago, before anything world-ending and he had just graduated high school.  Hard to imagine those had been simpler times, despite still being involved in the hunting lifestyle.  He and John had been going at each other’s throats almost every time they were in the same space.  Dean was always caught in the middle.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>After one particular hard fight, Sam had run off, which was a common conclusion to their spats.  Dean had been out, somewhere, so when Dean found him at the top of the abandoned warehouse building, Sam had to tell him about it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re always so angry, man,” Dean told him but it sounded fond.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat on the edge, two stories up from the ground.  Sam dangled his legs over, feeling too small for his body.  Dean’s shoulder pressed against his, the touch like an anchor.  The bitterness quelled ever so slightly.  He leaned into the familiar warmth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean sighed, brought a hand to Sam’s head and forced it to rest on his shoulder.  “It’ll be okay, Sammy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I go, would you come with?” He didn’t mean to ask, despite the question being on his mind for the past two years.  Ever since he had been considering college.  There would be a letter from any number of schools he’d applied to, packed in the P.O. Box they have in Maine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Without missing a beat, “Whatever you want, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a lie, of course.  Maybe they both knew it at the time.  Sam should have never asked him to choose between him and their father because he knew the answer.  Dean had too much loyalty to John.  When it came down to it, Sam understood.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But in that moment, Sam had peered up to see Dean grinning.  He used to have the best kind of smiles.  Carefree and light.  Sam had thought he could kiss it off his mouth, keep it for a while.  Dean had leaned forward and Sam’s heart kicked into overdrive.  He tucked his chin over Sam’s head and they stayed like that for some time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Back then, Sam had thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe he could.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s much older now and he knows better.  With everything they’ve been through, he knows Dean’s love for him is mangled but not as twisted as Sam’s.  They need each other, sure.  And living without one another leaves either one empty and hollowed out but Sam understands it’s different for him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And it needs to stay that way.  Because if Dean’s tricked himself into thinking he wants Sam because another version of them were together, Sam can’t handle that.  He’d lose it.  Dean would figure out quickly that little brother’s been obsessed with him since grade school.  And things would monumentally change. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd’s in the creek, washing her jacket, he assumes, but it looks more like she’s angrily trying to drown it.  Like an idiot, Sam decides to approach at that moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She catches him sitting at the edge, legs criss-crossed awkwardly and staring right at her.  Syd scoffs and straightens her back, beginning to wring out the water from the jacket.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She eyes him with suspicion.  “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean,” Sam takes a breath, “Okay.  You don’t want to talk about it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd frowns.  “Then why are you here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because it’s better than being over there,” Sam nods his head in the direction of where Dean is currently tossing crystals back in the water, rather angrily.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” Syd goes back to wringing her denim jacket, which is almost a fruitless task.  “You two are idiots.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam blinks.  Yeah, he’s heard that before.  Multiple times from multiple people but this young woman was supposedly raised by them.  But he agrees anyway, “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shrugs, leans back on his hands and sighs out.  “He’s...confused.  About us.  Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd spares a glance in Dean’s direction then back at Sam, shaking her head.  “Wow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not playing the mediator.  Did that plenty back in the day,” Syd dumps her jacket on the rocks and plops next to him.  “Used to write letters for you guys, back and forth.  Like, really bad ones.  Spelled everything wrong in crayon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam has to smile at that.  That probably would have worked too.  With all the fighting Dean and Sam have done in the past, he thinks maybe a lot of it could have been resolved with a little girl just trying her best.  “I’m sure you did a lotta good with those letters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“When Ben came into the picture, he would have to talk to Dean.  I’d go talk to you and we’d work it out somehow.  But that last time…  You guys didn’t even tell us.  You left a letter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Quietly, Syd reaches into her satchel to retrieve a leather journal with a tree engraved on its cover.  She opens to a placeholder, which turns out to be an envelope.  Her fingers skim over it.  “You said you wanted a better world for us.  But you guys left it the same way you left.  There just wasn’t something about to destroy the universe, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flicks his eyes over to Dean and is startled to see him watching.  Dean quickly turns back to gathering their things and Sam looks at Syd.  “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted them to say that to me,” Syd brings both hands to her eyes, presses there and he knows she’s suppressing tears.  “They never said goodbye.  I didn’t get a hug or </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  They left us.  Ben is all I have now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam wraps an arm around her shoulders and she instantly gravitates to him.  It feels right with her slotted there against his side.  He may never have gotten to have a child with Jess or raise this young woman but there’s a Sam out there who did.  A Sam who loved and cared for this girl enough to sacrifice himself for her.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry.  Sorry you didn’t get to know your mother.  Sorry that you had been brought up in the hunting life.  Sorry you don’t have parents anymore.  Sorry we were your parents.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses his mouth to the top of her head and murmurs, “You’re a good kid, Syd.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s crying then, silently, and huffing as she has to wipe away her tears but she nods in acknowledgement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I wanna go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So when we meet Raina, she’ll let us out, no questions asked?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd has to clear her throat before she answers.  “As long as we get to her, she lets anyone pass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean feels like there’s a Lord of the Rings joke in there somewhere but knows for a fact he’ll get glares in response.  So he keeps it to himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a question for you guys,” she begins, walking a bit ahead of them and doesn’t wait, “I know a lot of things are different.  And having a kid probably changes our worlds a lot.  But… Did Mom…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean’s stomach drops and he looks at Sam immediately.  Sam’s lips are in a thin line as he stares back at Syd and then his eyes lower to the ground.  “It’s what got me back into hunting, I guess.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Syd sighs out, “Figured.”  There’s a pause before she says, “You’re both legal private investigators.  You never really got into much trouble, so it was easy to adopt Ben after Lisa died.  The state couldn’t find any other family.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Private investigators?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, with your law degree,” Syd nods to Sam and then to Dean, “and your background with the fire department, you guys were able to get licenses.  It worked out when people looked into our backgrounds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean has no idea what to say to that.  No, their lives did not go that way at all.  He frowns, looking at Sam to find him staring back.  “We…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re like Uncle Bobby?”  Syd asks.  “Just pretend to be a cop?  Or whatever you need to be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Sam confirms.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean feels a twist in his gut as he realizes that Sam got to finish college in this other world.  They didn’t even have a kid and Sam had been whisked away from that life.  There’s still an unfinished law degree at Stanford.  And Dean---he got to be a firefighter?  That was all he wanted when he was a kid.  And he got to do it?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Jesus, he hates learning more about Syd’s life.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“That should be Raina up ahead,” she says, nodding to the distance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re coming up on the end of the forest.  Between the treeline, he can see another valley but there’s something in the middle.  A dome?  It rests over the creek, like a beaver’s dam.  But it’s huge and reminds him of a building.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s where Raina the Witch is?  Fuck.  He hopes this witch doesn’t even show up and just lets them go their merry way.  He wants to get back to his car, back to the bunker and be by himself so he can sulk about whatever the fuck happened here.  Maybe Sam won’t mention it if he brushes it off enough.  Yeah, that’s the plan.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They take a rest before heading out.  He hasn’t seen Sam’s little grass friend recently, so he sort of hopes he had scared it off enough.  But it had probably been Sam’s rejection to it all.  Dean knows that feeling rather intimately lately.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd goes off to grab a crystal from the lake and says she’ll see if she can keep it, which leaves Sam and Dean alone.  He spares a glance to his brother, who is still leafing through that stupid journal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna...take a leak,” Dean says, not even having to go.  But he needs some space before there’s no buffer between them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks up, obviously catching on.  His features soften and he says, “Dean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope.  He can’t.  Not right now.  Dean grunts as he stands up, brushing himself off.  “I’ll be right back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean,” Sam says more firmly, standing up with him.  “It’ll be different when we’re outta here.  Whatever you’re feeling, it’ll be gone and we’ll get back to normal, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.  Sam has no idea how off the mark he really is.  Dean sighs and turns away.  “Sure, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> want things to go back to normal.  Hell, he’d love to.  Normal meant Sam had no idea about Dean’s longing.  He’d gladly go back to pushing those desires back, simply pining after a little brother who had no clue.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But he already knows what Sam tastes like and it’s not like he’s going to forget that.  All this time, Dean had thought he had buried this thing so deep, not even demons or angels could see it.  But this world had tugged it out, let him know it had just been under his skin, barely contained under the surface.  Kissing Sam out of nowhere had proved that much.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes, leans against one of the trees.  What is he going to do when all this is over?  Eventually, this shit will get to Sam’s head.  He knows it.  Sam will drift away from him, wanting to distance himself like all the other times before.  Maybe Sam’s always had a feeling about Dean; something was always off with Dean and his enormous need to have Sam around him.  Maybe that’s why he’s always left.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a quiet scritch-scratch of something nearby but it barely registers before something scapes along his chin.  He snaps his eyes open to see the faceless creature made of bark and wood.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Distantly, he feels he should be panicking, fighting it off.  But there’s a strange calm settling over his body.  It soothes him and he’s closing his eyes again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s Sam, balled up against his form, eight years old and seeking Dean’s warmth.  Camping out in the woods because Dad had a hunt in California.  Dean had woken up to Sam laying on top of him, both of them tangled in sleeping bags.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there’s Sam laughing at the ridiculous joke he made.  A joyous sound, makes Dean want to smother himself with it.  The first time he had laughed after Jess died.  He had laughed until he’d been breathless, hair whipping over his face from the open window.  And then he had turned to look back at Dean, that childish glimmer in his eyes from before all this.  Something wonderfully tragic and Dean felt his breath get stolen.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Or when Dad was gone and they had to sleep in the Impala.  Right after he fixed it up and they were driving for miles and miles, endless tarmac and bumpy roads.  Driving, driving until he finally couldn’t anymore and he pulled off on the side and slumped there in the driver’s seat, tired and worn out.  He had fell asleep with Sam beside him but when he woke up, he was nestled against him, Sam’s arms loosely around his form, konked out because he had stayed awake with Dean through it all.  And he had felt good.  Really good.  Just there, wrapped up in Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Nights after a particularly rough hunt, staying up till the morning in the bunker’s library.  Idle conversations and passing time because sleep meant nightmares and they’d keep each other present as long as they’d have to.  Drinking whiskey and chasing it down with cold beers.  Simply sitting there across the table, doing nothing.  As close to peace as he’d get because Sam---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---Sammy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, please!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s not right.  That sounds---sounds off.  Sam’s okay.  He’s laughing, bright eyes and looking right at him.  But he sounds different.  Doesn’t sound like he’s happy.  Sam’s not happy?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off, come on, Dean, gotta get it off,” Sam’s saying, rambling.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Panicked.  That’s what he sounds like.  Fear spreads throughout Dean.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sam’s not okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Like instinct, Dean tries to move towards Sam’s voice, seek him out.  If Sam’s not all right, then what is Dean doing?  That’s his job.  He can’t have that in jeopardy.  That’s not right.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, c’mon, you gotta get out, Dean---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He snaps his eyes open.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Light eyes stare back at him.  Sam looks---he looks scared.  “Dean?  Dean---gotta come back---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounds urgent but Dean’s not sure why.  Had he been sleeping?  What’s wrong?  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m already here, Sammy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants to say but finds his words stolen from him before he can speak.  There’s something keeping him from moving, from talking.  The fear ebbs back.  Why can’t he move?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, whatever this is, we’ll work it out, right?  We always do,” Sam’s talking like he’s losing his voice now, wavering and rough.  He’s got his hands on Dean’s face and the warmth is welcomed.  Dean wants to close his eyes but he’s afraid he’ll lose sight of Sam again.  “Just come back, ‘kay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, Sam.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He breathes in, forces himself to lean closer to his brother until their foreheads touch.  Sam breathes out a shaky breath, closing his eyes.  He’s trembling, Dean can feel the tremors as he moves closer and away from the tree.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s right.  He’d been leaning against a tree.  And then one of those monsters…  It takes a lot of effort but he’s grabbing hold of Sam’s shoulders, feeling mulch and tree bark falling off his fingers.  Had he almost…?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam’s tugging him up, hands still holding his face.  They’re close, too close, </span>
  <em>
    <span>too close</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  But Dean allowing himself to relish in it, feeling deprived of Sam’s touch, despite it having been only hours ago.  It’s warm wherever Sam is and Dean can’t help but fall into the gravitational pull his brother has over him.  He’ll always seek Sam out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sam whispers, like he means to say more but can only get past his name.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, Sam,” Dean murmurs, “I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean looks like a damn mess by the time he regains his footing.  Sam’s heart thuds loudly in his chest, he’s afraid his brother can hear it.  He feels as if he’ll fall himself, despite having to hold Dean up from the ground.  Anxiety skitters over his skin, pin needles everywhere.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s familiar.  That common fear that he associates with losing his brother.  Too many times to count.  He’d nearly lost his brother.  Again.  And by this world’s laws, there’s no coming back from it.  Death hasn’t stopped them before but this could have taken him away.  And there would have been no stopping Sam from succumbing to the same fate.  They’d both be lost, at least.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should be glad for his urge to talk things out, as Dean would put it.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Always wanna talk about it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d say.  But Sam’s desire to hash it out had been spurred by Dean’s last response.  It hadn’t sounded...normal.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sure, Sam</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Dean lies blatantly; doesn’t often put much effort when he’s trying to hide his feelings from Sam.  Then again, maybe there’s no way to do that with each other anymore.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he’d found Dean against a tree, one of those monsters kneeling in front of him.  The terror of seeing Dean like that, bark beginning to grow over his hands, to his neck, had Sam’s heart stop.  He’d thrown the monster and it rushed away but the damage had already been done.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Now Dean stands before him, gripping Sam’s shoulders like he’s a lifeline.  And Sam’s hands are still on Dean’s face, thumb pressed to his cheekbone, as if he needs more confirmation that Dean’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>there.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  He says it, though.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here, Sam,” but it doesn’t feel quite real yet.  “I’m here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Sam rasps, his voice giving out.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You were gonna leave.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>There’s very few times Dean’s ever left Sam and each time, it’s felt like the end of the world.  Sam can count on one hand the occasions it’s happened.  Whether when Dad sent him away or Dean left on his own, just to get away from Sam and everything else.  That’s Sam’s thing.  Running away.  And Dean---he waits for him to come back.  Dean leaving is---it’s the worst.  And that’s what he was gonna do.  Have Sam left alone, with nothing left.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s got to remind Dean that it’s not right, somehow.  There had been a reason Sam hadn’t accepted his creature’s invitation.  He’ll give Dean a reason.  It’s not hard to convince Dean to be with him, stay and live the way they do.  Hell, Dean has made the argument to Sam over and over again.  But---is that not enough anymore?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Desperate and terrified, Sam bends down, slots his mouth against Dean’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean immediately reacts, kisses him back and Sam makes a sound in the back of his throat, like relief.  Relieved Dean’s okay.  He’s here.  That’s enough, isn’t it?  It should be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>(In the past, it hadn’t been.  There had been a time Sam had forgotten that.  When he had realized there was a whole universe outside of Dean’s orbit.  And leaving that had chipped away pieces of him until he’d been hollowed out.  Until he could name what he had been yearning for.)</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam breaks the kiss with a small gasp, stunned.  He’s such a hypocrite.  Hadn't he just told Dean they shouldn’t do this?  And here he is, giving Dean a window to act on whatever experiment he’s got his head wrapped around.  His stomach turns.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Experiment.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at Dean with wide eyes and begins extracting himself, hoping Dean has enough strength to stand on his own.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted Dean to have a reason.  There had always been a reason for Dean.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gotta take care of ya</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d say.  But Dean was willing to let it all go.  For what?  Sam runs a hand through his hair, feeling the slight tremble in the movement.  That had been the wrong reason; Sam shouldn’t have kissed him.  Shit, shit, shit---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s, uh,” Sam says, feeling nauseous, but can’t remember the rest of the sentence.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey---!” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They both whip their heads to see Sid standing a few meters away, looking flushed and out of breath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell, you two?” she spreads her arms, a scowl on her face.  “Been lookin’ everywhere for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were just---” Sam tries.  Fails.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just needed a talk,” Dean says.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam flicks his eyes to Dean, who is regarding him with a strange expression.  Inquisitive but not entirely clinical.  As if he’s figured out half a puzzle, which has Sam’s mind reeling.  He snaps his attention back to Sid.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.  Did you get the stones?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” her shoulders relax.  “Let’s just go already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods and begins to follow her.  He hears shuffling behind him and assumes Dean’s doing the same.  The panic from before has mostly abated, however there’s plenty of room for guilt.  He feels overwhelmed with the flurry of emotions in the past couple of days.  He’s tired with it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>As they approach the dome, Dean is acutely aware of the distance between him and his brother.  Sid placed herself between them not that long ago and he has a feeling she did it on purpose.  Sam and Sid share a conversation that Dean’s only half listening to as they walk along the creek.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so many thoughts firing off in his mind that he feels overwhelmed; he feels as if he’s on autopilot, trudging through the motions of what he has to do.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows.  Dean </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He’s not crazy.  If Sam hadn’t wanted him before they stepped through that portal, he’s shown he wants Dean now.  But Dean’s willing to put money on the fact that maybe, in some fucked up way, Sam had fallen under the same bracket of demented adoration as Dean did.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s always been there.  That </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  For Dean, it had been a constant; something he couldn’t shake off if he wanted to.  Sam had always been that bright thing in his life.  It would shift over lines Dean never meant to cross but it always surrounded Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he had buried it deep inside him.  The black hole that he could toss anything inside that was remotely close to his obsession with Sam.  But this place---it feels as if this thing had been right under his skin all along and this other world has brought it forth.  Years of condensing it, pushing it further and further from his mind...for nothing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But Sam kissed him.  And Dean saw it in his face.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>it.  He’s not crazy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The journal doesn’t mention the motivation of the witch,” Sam says to Syd.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean quietly listens; he’s not about to give any input to the conversation, though.  His head still feels foggy.  They hadn’t told Syd about the close call from earlier and he thinks that it should stay that way.  Opting to become a tree monster doesn’t feel like good news.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s in there but the locals told me the details,” Syd sighs out, shuffling the strap of her bag back onto her shoulder.  “She had a child.  It’s suspected the kid was murdered, unfortunately.  But she never found her child and, in her grief, she created an entire world free from those who meant harm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But doesn’t she indirectly harm people who come here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s up to that person.  We’re still okay and that’s because we made the choice to.  Those consumed by hate or bitterness typically don’t come out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a silence then and Dean has to try real hard not to ponder what that really means.  This whole place has felt like a trap.  From the very beginning, he felt as if this world had been out to get him.  But now it just feels like he’d been projecting it all along.  It’s just the rules of this world.  It had simply shown him what he had hidden away for years.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They come upon the dome.  It’s intertwined with branches and red vines.  White and violet flowers dot the entire structure.  There’s an opening where the creek flows under it.  The whole dome is the size of a two story house and, honestly, Dean’s mildly impressed.  It’s the first sign of shelter they’ve seen since coming here and it’s fascinating.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd begins to move towards the opening but Dean steps out in front of her.  No way he’s letting her go first.  Cautiously, he steps into the water and walks inside.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He half expects something to jump out at them.  Maybe a screeching banshee, swiping at them with long nails.  A terrifying human-animal hybrid lunging for their throats.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s nothing like that.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a fire in the middle.  Campfire, really.  Two wood carved benches curved around it.  A wood deck serves as a floor.  A few tables and shelves line the twisted vines and branches, plants and strange, intricate items on their surfaces.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And there stands a woman by the fire, her back to them.  Long black hair, dressed in white.  It’s a dress, oddly modern looking.  She’s tall; by his guess, around five foot and ten inches.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd brushes against his side and he looks down to see her peering up at him with some confusion.  He glances at Sam but, unsurprisingly, he’s looking anywhere Dean isn’t.  He sets his jaw, turning back to the woman.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, hello?” Syd says, uncertainty in her voice.  “You’re Raina, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came to see the witch?” asks the woman, still facing the fire.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We would like to go back to our home,” Sam speaks up now.  “Would you know how we could do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you didn’t come to see me,” the woman responds, almost emotionless.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, lady, you can cut the shit,” Dean’s patience has run its course.  In his peripheral, he can see both Syd and Sam giving him rather alarmed looks but, really, they both should know better.  Riddles and stupid answers go no where with Dean.  “We know you’re the witch.  We wanna get back.  You gonna show us the way or do we have to click our heels till it works?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns around.  Dean feels himself recoil a bit.  Her eyes reflect the fire that burns in the middle of the room.  There is no room for any other color but that of flames.  She’s terrifyingly beautiful.  And Dean has a feeling he might have pissed her off a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t mean harm,” Sam to the rescue.  “We just want to go home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean blinks and suddenly she’s right in front of his brother.  Sam jolts, as if she’d hit him but she only tilts her head to the side as he shifts away half a step.  Dean makes a rushed move to get between them, instinctively, but Syd has a hand over his chest.  Despite her stopping him, she’s staring intently at both Sam and the witch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You came here to be judged,” she states, looking up at Sam.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Sam begins, a brief glance at Dean before he looks back at her.  “That’s what we’re told.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve come for retribution?” the witch questions.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were thrown in here.  We wanna go </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Dean says, feeling his frustration bubble forth out of his quiet panic.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she’s next to him.  Both Dean and Syd jump a little and he swallows, staring directly into her eyes.  Like sunfire, locked away behind glass.  “No.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> want vindication.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>He</span>
  </em>
  <span> yearns for forgiveness.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to Syd, a slow movement that’s both eerie and unnatural.  Syd visibly tenses.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are the one who wants retribution.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd straightens her shoulders, “Why does that matter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what I longed for,” the witch says quietly then.  The first bit of emotion trickles in her tone.  “I could never find it.  Maybe someday, you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd’s shoulders drop and so does Dean’s heart.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets it then.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>This hadn’t been just a woman on a mission.  This had been a girl aimlessly looking for the people who raised her.  There had once been a little girl who looked up to two men.  Heroes in her eyes.  And they would go away sometimes but they had always found their way back to her.  They fed her, clothed her, protected her to the best of their ability.  And then, one day, they couldn’t anymore.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Once upon a time, Dean had felt like a little lost boy.  Dad left one day and just...didn’t come back.  And that bit of terror was enough to give him courage to run back to Sam.  And they both did everything they could to find him.  And knowing John had left him on purpose...kinda broke him in a way.  And then John died, trading his life for his.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t mean to but his eyes find Sam’s and they’re staring at each other.  They both get it.  Because they’ve done anything and everything to claw their way back to each other.  But Syd’s Sam and Dean?  They did the same shit their father did.  They stayed dead, once and for all, to protect her from something.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” Syd takes in a shaky breath, swipes furiously at her cheek as a tear rolls down.  “Yeah...someday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean places a hand on her shoulder and he spies Sam discreetly taking her hand.  He squeezes and turns his attention back to the witch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we go home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you bring gifts?” Suddenly, she’s at a table.  She gestures at the items scattered across the surface.  Various things cover it.  Dean’s almost certain he sees a walkman but he’s not about to inspect further.  “If you have none, I will take one for myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam and Dean share an alarmed look.  Syd murmurs, “Memories.  She’d only take a memory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean wrinkles his nose.  That doesn’t sound nice regardless.  Sam walks to the table and both Syd and Dean follow.  Carefully, Sam takes out the knife that he had hidden in his jacket and places it on the table.  After a long moment, the witch nods.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s not about to give up the demon knife, so Dean’s a bit screwed.  As he contemplates what else he has on his person, Syd slides off her denim jacket and lays it down besides Sam’s knife.  The witch nods once again.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Now all eyes are on Dean and he sighs.  “If you take a memory, will it be gone forever?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are only shared,” the witch supplies, which doesn’t give him much to work on.  He eyes her.  “They are archived here,” she points to the creek.  “When one leaves here, it allows one of the Tamed through the door.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean frowns.  The fuck?  But it’s Sam who figures it out.  Go figure.  “The crystals?  Those are memories inside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“They are what keep me grounded to each world,” the witch murmurs and flashes in front of Sam.  She’s too fast for anyone to react and her hand swipes something from his pocket.  The crystal he’s been carrying around.  “This one---a girl with her sister.  They’re laughing after a tumble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>So the crystals have people’s memories and that’s what wards off the creatures.  Human memories in a pure form.  Dean supposes he should be glad it’s not human souls for once.  In the corner of his eye, he sees Syd inching back to the creek, obviously having the mind to put all those crystals she had taken back into the water.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he sighs out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The witch is in front of him in a blink of an eye and she’s smiling.  He guesses she means it to be disarming but it’s honestly creepy.  She holds a dull crystal in her hand as her other one moves to his temple.  Two fingers press against his forehead as she closes her sunfire eyes and breathes in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What has you surrender?</span>
  </em>
  <span> he hears distantly and he thinks of the twelve year old who stood in the middle of a field, full of bursting colorful lights, laughing with delight.  That night they had shot off illegal fireworks and Sam surprised him with an embrace and a thank you.  And Dean pressed his mouth against the top of his hair and pretended it hadn’t been a half-hearted kiss.  They stayed like that until the light faded.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his eyes, frowning as the witch has disappeared from his sight.  He sees Sam, just a few paces away, staring at him with a question in his eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your precious things shall be treasured here,” the witch says and lifts a hand, pointing to the opposite end of the dome, a glowing crystal in the other hand.  The twisted branches and vines begin to unravel, revealing another opening with light on the other side.  The water of the creek slowly ascends, droplets of water rising and falling.  Just like at the bridge.  The reverse waterfall.  “You may return to your homes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet and Dean realizes that this means they won’t see Syd again.  He turns to her and Sam shifts next to him.  The closest they’ve been in the last hour.  They look at Syd and she simply stares back with glassy eyes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The jacket,” she says gently, as if afraid to raise her voice, “It had been a present when I was a teenager.  I wanted it so bad.  I was such a brat about not getting new clothes.  And we were leaving town after a hunt and...they gave it to me in the car.  They had ‘Winchester’ embroidered inside, over the heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd sighs out, runs a hand through her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t promise I won’t try to bring them back.  I might not ever get to see them again.  And that’s not all right with me.  But I’m doing fine and that’s all they wanted.  I can’t just survive.  I have to thrive and---I don’t know how to do that without them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean nods.  He gets it.  God, does he get it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wherever they are, Syd,” Sam murmurs, “They love you.  Whatever happened, they never would have done it if they knew for sure it would keep you safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Otherwise, they’d be real assholes leaving such a great daughter behind,” Dean gives a small smile.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Syd smiles back, though it’s half hearted and with some grief.  “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Dean mutters and she falls into both of them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>When she releases them, she sniffs and takes out a journal from her bag and hands it to Sam.  “Here.  My memories.  It’s a life you didn’t have, seen through someone you don’t know but---it’s evidence I existed.  I want you to know you are loved, even if I’m literally a universe away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Syd---this is yours.  I can’t---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Write down everything,” Syd says, “That’s what you told me.  I have five other journals with the same shit.  Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam tucks it under his arm and smiles.  “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she breathes out and begins towards the portal.  “Time to head back.  I don’t want Ben rushing in and getting lost in this world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we’ll see each other again,” Dean offers, though he hardly believes it himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Honestly?  I hope not.  With Winchester luck, it’d probably mean the end of the world,” Syd grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>With one wave, she’s through the portal.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean turns back to Sam and feels tension seep back into his muscles.  His brother glances back at the witch, who stares on as a freaky witness and then to him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Dean sighs out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk back, side by side.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>---</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The motel they found has an astronomical theme to it.  Constellations dot the ceiling, though they’re not glow in the dark.  Sam checked.  He would have been really bummed out as a kid.  But Sam’s secretly admiring the work put into the idea of it.  There’s even a faded moon lamp in the corner, which he can appreciate.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean had gone to get food, claiming he had been starving for greasy food for the past couple of days.  He can’t blame him.  Even Sam may want to have some junk food after the shit they’ve been through.  But he assumes Dean will bring him the salad he usually does for him, which is for the best.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>They haven’t talked much since returning.  The fall back to their world had been slightly jarring.  It had been early morning, just hours after they had entered the other world.  Sam figured he could do the math when he felt less tired.  The men who had held them captive merely accepted the fact that they had passed the witch’s test and let them be on their way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And Sam and Dean?  Well.  They’ve been acting like everything’s back to normal.  Just like Sam had predicted.  And feared, slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Back in that other world, Sam felt as if all the little impulses to touch Dean, all those moments he held back in life, the desire to kiss him, the need to be closer than usual, all of it had been dialed up to the max.  All his inhibitions no longer had boundaries.  He simply let himself get swept away.  And maybe he had hoped Dean had felt the same way.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>In some fantasy world, Sam had once thought Dean would have said that same thing.  Kiss him and say </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, it’s always been this way</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  But it hadn’t happened.  It never did.  He hadn’t expected it but it had been nice to dream in his younger days.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Now?  Sam can tuck all of the events that have occurred the past two days into the hidden folder in his brain.  It’ll be gone and out of sight.  And they’ll be fine.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Just fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean comes through the door with nothing in his hands and a deep frown on his face.  He teaches into his pocket and dumps the keys on the table, running a hand through his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam instantly feels alarmed.  He sits up from his spot at the table and eyes Dean, who is basically pacing now.  “Dean?  Thought you were getting food.  What’s---?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The church,” Dean says abruptly and Sam stares at him, baffled.  But he’s still not looking at him.  Just walking around the room, wringing his hands.  “You remember the church?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“What church? Dean, c’mon, you’re not makin’ sense here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you’re right.  There’s been a lot,” he mutters and that has Sam inching towards a quiet panic.  “I was drivin’, right?  Think I was headed towards this steakhouse we passed but then I saw it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam shakes his head, reminding himself to have a neutral voice when he asks, “Dean, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“The church!” Dean exclaims, stopping dead in his tracks to look straight at him.  After a couple moments, he goes back to pacing.  “Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>the</span>
  </em>
  <span> church.  But it looks a lot like the church from before.  Remember?  It was, like, a hundred years old.  Old and falling apart.  You had Crowley in there and I just left you there to deal with some other bullshit---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam feels the blood drain from his face.  Oh.  The trials.  He’s talking about the fucking trials.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  He doesn’t want to bring this up now.  “Dean, c’mon, I’m hungry, you’re hungry, let’s just---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I just---just stopped the car.  And I got out and I’m just standing there, like and idiot.  Just...just standing there.  And I remember that night.  I was so fucked up about it, Sammy.  I just couldn’t---”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearly, whatever is happening is close to a mental breakdown and Sam does not have the energy for this.  They both can’t be close to losing it at the same time.  That would break the universe at this point.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dean</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember what I told you, right?  I know I fucked things up after and all.  I know I messed that up but I never---I </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> what I said, y’know?”  Dean stops again, nodding, as if he’s trying to get them both to believe it.  “You know that, right, Sammy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dean, you’re freaking me out,” Sam says evenly but, shit, the panic button has already been pushed.  “What is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His brother steps closer and Sam bristles, ready for whatever sporadic move.  “I told you it’s you and me.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>told me that too.  But---I </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Nothing comes before you.  You get that, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He does.  And he’s learned that the hard way.  Too many times to count, actually.  But he’s confused and dazed and fucking exhausted.  He doesn’t understand why Dean’s bringing this up now.  He doesn’t have an answer for his brother.  He can only stand there, frowning silently.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean gets closer, too close.  Quietly, “Sam?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He could kiss him right now and it would all be game over.  It’s a familiar thing by now and that maybe scares him because it’s not something that happens between them.  But it has.  Several times.  He could just bend down and press his mouth against Dean’s and things would make better sense than this wild conversation.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you bringing this up?”  His throat feels closed off with the words.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because after I said all that, I kept thinking I could do it,” Dean murmurs, eyes flicking over his face.  Sam feels hot suddenly, skin too tight.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Do what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a few seconds of silence between them.  It stretches too long and has Sam nervous and itching to move.  His muscles are stiff.  Dean’s staring up, intensely, as if he’s waiting on Sam for something or contemplating even answering.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But then, “I know, Sam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And he doesn’t have to ask what that means.  He huffs out, feeling stripped bare and slightly humiliated by the admission.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Because why wouldn’t he?  He would have figured it out eventually.  One of Sam’s best features is keeping secrets but, in the end, Dean uncovers it.  No matter how dark.  And this---it’s too much.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam swallows, shaking his head.  He backs away but Dean catches his arm, yanks him to him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a second for him to register it.  Dean’s kissing him, a hand cuffing the back of his neck to hold him there.  Sam’s still before he relents, in near disbelief, as he kisses him back.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Dean pulls away before he can fully wrap his head around it.  He’s smirking up at him and Sam’s staring at him with confusion and some wonder.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m hungry.  Wanna go eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam coughs out a laugh and runs a hand through his hair.  “Yeah.  Sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
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